


This is Halloween, Everybody Assemble!

by cordelia314



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: 31 Days Of Halloween, American Sign Language, Arc Reactor, Avengers Family, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Kid Peter Parker, M/M, Magic, Marriage Proposal, Near Death, October Prompt Challenge, Serial Killers, Stony - Freeform, Superfamily, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, Torture, Vampires, deafness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-07-23 21:22:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 97,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16167200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordelia314/pseuds/cordelia314
Summary: I found a list I liked of prompts for each day of October. So I decided to make Avengers ficlets for each of them. They all take place in October, and I tried to keep things spooky or at least cause fear in one or more characters. This is mostly a self-gratifying project, plus an exercise to help me get better at writing shorter pieces since I tend to write loooong fics.





	1. Transformation

**Author's Note:**

> Source for my prompts [here](http://theark-ofvoid.tumblr.com/post/178393172502/hello-tumblr-i-prepared-my-own-october-challenge). This is a WIP for obvious reasons. Please feel free to comment with constructive criticism, or if you like anything in particular. Some of these might end up becoming the basis for larger stories later on if they're well liked. I'll try to add tags as I go, since I'm not sure what all I'll end up writing yet. I'm bad at titles, too, so if anyone has better ideas, PLEASE tell me them.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Tony and Bruce had felt no need for any of the others to come along, since they’d be useless. They were gathering samples for experimentation, and knowing what they needed samples of was tricky. The scientists didn’t think the others had an eye for it. Dr. Strange had showed up at the tower only a week ago, looking for Tony.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, magic man?" Tony didn’t look up from the tangle of wires he was fiddling with. The big metal contraption that contained said wires was a mystery to Strange; its use not obvious from its appearance. Tony’s world of engineering often seemed as mysterious and unattainable to Stephen as his world of magic seemed to Tony.

"I’ve come to ask for help," the sorcerer began. That got Tony’s attention. He looked up at Dr. Strange, raising his eyebrows in a show of surprise.

"Since when do you ever need my help?"

Much to Tony’s discomfort, Dr. Strange made himself comfortable, sitting down in mid-air as though a chair existed there. His cloak billowed slightly behind him despite the air being still. Screw the laws of physics whenever Strange was around. He had his hands clasped in front of his face for a moment, looking deep in thought. He dropped them to his lap before continuing. "I suppose I don’t come to you for help in usual circumstances, however these are not. I am in need of your expertise." Tony only motioned for him to continue, settling onto his work bench. "A girl came to me in need of help. According to her, her house had become haunted and her mother was possessed. Naturally I proceeded to investigate the premises and her mother, only to find that her mother had returned to normal, but the house they thought they lived in was not a house at all. An illusion had been placed over a laboratory to make it seem like a house. Their real house was a block away, and not at all haunted. After removing the illusion spell and probing the mother’s mind, for she had no memory of what had happened, I found that she had, in fact, been hypnotized and had been doing experiments of some sort for the hypnotist. There has been no sign of said hypnotist since, and I cannot figure head from toes of the laboratory."

Tony scrubbed a hand over a tired face. He had not been sleeping much lately. October was one of his busiest times of the year for SI because the shareholders always panicked in November about the yearly summary. Over the years he found that having extra inventions up his sleeve to assure them that it had been a productive year kept them from getting their panties in a bunch. On top of his business duties, the Avengers tended to have extra missions in October since Halloween seemed to inspire even the most trivial villains to get up to no good.

"You’d like me to investigate for you." It wasn’t a question. He needed more information than what he’d been given. ‘Experiments’ could mean anything really, and Tony did not have the spare time to get involved with Strange missions if he wasn’t actually going to be useful. "What kind of experiments? Chemistry? Physics?"

A shadow seemed to cross Dr. Strange’s features. "It’s difficult to describe. It doesn’t seem to be anything medical, but that’s all I really know." He flashed a small smile at Tony. "Medical school didn’t teach me much outside of the human body."

Tony let out a sigh. "I don’t really have time to help you if you can’t give me more-- nyaahh!" He let out a startled yell when Dr. Strange was suddenly standing just behind him with two fingers to Tony’s temple.

The lab in front of him was now a completely different lab. Tony looked around the room, vaguely aware that this was in his head; that he was still at home. This lab looked more like disorganized warehouse. There were tables scattered about, with chemistry equipment and glowing solutions. In piles throughout the large room there were metal tools and weapons, but they were completely alien to Tony. The view before Tony was suddenly back to his own lab with Strange facing him. He couldn’t help the hand that flew to his heaving chest. He took a few deep breaths, letting his panic ebb away.

"Warn a man next time! Jesus!" Magic put him on edge already, but having your senses tricked like that was disorienting.

Dr. Strange grimaced apologetically. "Sorry, I forget that this is not everyday stuff for you."

...

That was what brought Tony and Bruce here now, test tubes of their own collecting samples as well as large bags to pack away and tools they wanted and snapping photos of what they couldn’t carry with them. A lot of the objects reminded Tony of Chitauri technology crossed with Asgardian tools. He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly led him to believe that; he would have no way of pointing to any one trait that made him think of aliens and Asgardians, but it was currently a working theory.

"Any initial theories?" He asked.

Bruce capped another test tube before sliding it into its foam slot. "Not really. None of it is recognizable to me, but the weapons give me a weird vibe." He shuddered visibly.

Tony snapped a photo of the nonsensical chart painted on one of the walls. He turned back to face his friend again. "Vibe?"

Bruce nodded, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "That’s the closest word I can think of at the moment. Like an aura I can feel."

Tony mulled over that. He didn’t feel anything, but Bruce could be more sensitive to whatever it was. Dr. Strange had assured them that nothing magical remained here, so it wasn’t that. "Maybe low-level radiation? Or they’re emitting an electromagnetic field or some sort of energy field?"

Bruce let out a soft hmm, not looking at his friend anymore. He muttered under his breath, but Tony couldn’t make it out. "You don’t feel it at all?"

Tony picked up a glass orb with something that looked like an insect suspended inside, but it wasn’t an insect Tony was familiar with. "Nope," he popped the ‘p.’ They were probably almost finished, and Bruce’s movements were getting more agitated by the minute. Tony watched him from the corner of his eye and noticed the way Bruce’s steps were halting and his hands were making stilted twitches as he picked up another metallic tool. He wanted to call him out on it, but sometimes just pointing out Bruce’s agitated states could push him over the edge. He had to keep the semblance of calm. "Welp, we finished here? I think we’ve got plenty to start with, and we could always come back later if we need to. Strange has it under some sort of magical surveillance in case the scientist/magician returns." He turned to face the quiet scientist, careful to keep his demeanor relaxed.

Bruce wasn’t paying him any attention at all, though. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his hands still clutching the tool. Tony thought that his skin might have a greenish hue, but the lighting was not good in here, and he hoped he was merely being paranoid. "Brucie?" He asked gently, taking a step towards the other man. "Let’s go home."

Bruce’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. The bursts of air coming from his nostrils were audible, and a bead of sweat had formed on his temple. Tony felt his own heart rate pick up. If Bruce transformed in here, anything of value would be destroyed.

Tony spun on his heel, striding for the only door. It was time for a different approach. "I’m leaving," he called behind him, blasé.

"No," and that wasn’t Bruce’s voice, that was the Hulk’s voice. Tony turned back to his friend, the suit emerging from beneath his skin. He was just in time to see Bruce’s torn shirt fall off, the rest of his clothing already on the ground except his superflex shorts Tony had designed himself. One could only be faced with Hulk’s penis a few times before they took matters into their own hands.

He had to lure the Other Guy out of here. Bruce would be so upset with himself of the Hulk destroyed all their evidence. "JARVIS, code green," Tony said quietly. J knew to call in the others for a code green. Hulk could do a lot of damage quickly, and the suit was often not enough to subdue him. He raised his right hand, shooting a weak repulsor directly at Hulk’s face. The more Iron Man could piss him off, the easier it’d be to lure him away from the valuable evidence they had collected.

The plan seemed to work, both to Tony’s delight and dismay. The Hulk let out a furious roar that vibrated Tony’s bones before taking off towards him, and consequently, the door. Tony turned and kicked on his boots, escaping the green beast’s grasp not a moment too soon. He aimed a nice medium repulsor blast at the wall to escape through. No time for opening doors.

The smoke cleared away to show the wall completely intact. The place where a gaping hole should be was clearly marked with burns, but beneath the black char was an undamaged wall that was clearly NOT the cement it looked like. Tony was fucked. He turned in time to avoid slamming into the wall, redirecting his course for the door. The Hulk’s fist met the wall where Tony had nearly crashed, and the wall cracked but did not crumble. What was this building made of!?

He reached the door, throwing it open before Hulk hit him from behind. The doorway was definitely weaker than the other parts of the wall, because Hulk crashed through it behind Tony slamming into the building across the street. The suit crashed through glass, and Tony squealed to a halt on the linoleum floor of what appeared to be a children’s clothing store. He silently thanked the universe that it was nighttime, so no one had been in harm’s way. Standing with a wince, he began the march outside towards the Other Guy. Hopefully the others got here soon, because Hulk was clearly furious, and the armour had never had to stand up to a truly antagonistic Hulk, only an irritated one. Bruce had told him once that the Hulk’s strength was correlated to his anger levels.

Tony took another look at the roaring beast, his quiet and meek friend transformed beyond recognition, and had a sinking suspicion that Hulk would have no trouble crushing the armour like aluminum foil if he really wanted. "How about we let Bruce back out, Big Guy?" Iron Man’s speakers turned up to catch the Hulk’s attention. "I need to talk to him."

He narrowly dodged the swipe of Hulk’s hand attempting to swat at him like a fly. Taking to the air, Tony circled his ~~friend~~ foe warily. " Hulk, buddy, I didn’t mean anything by shooting you, it was all in good fun, I swear!" he tried. The flight strategy was not enough, he realized belatedly, when Hulk jumped upwards and caught hold of Tony’s right leg.

Before he knew it he was flat on his back in a small Iron Man-shaped crater in the asphalt. His HUD display was fizzling in and out. He let out a low groan. "JARVIS, you still there?"

"Sir, ETA for- _zzzt_ \- in- _zzztshhhhh_ \- until- _kssshhhhhht_ ," the choppy sentence was useless before the display and speaker gave up completely. He lifted the faceplate so he could still see, and sat up. Everything ached, but nothing seemed to be broken yet. Hulk had moved a few feet away from Tony, looking like he was considering re-entering the lab.

Tony closed his eyes, taking a moment to accept what would happen next before he opened them. "Hey Big Green!" He shouted. The Hulk stilled, but did not yet turn to face the tiny man in the metal suit. He took another step towards the building where something seemed to be calling to him, opting to ignore the voice of the tin man.

_Damnit it hell,_ Tony thought. Hopefully the others would be there any minute, or he was dead meat. He aimed a small missile at the back of Hulk’s head, and the minor explosion predictably did no damage, but sufficiently distracted him from the lab again.

" Tin Man get SMASHED!" He yelled, bounding back towards Tony. Tony tried to take off, but his repulsors only sputtered. The Hulk grasped Iron Man’s torso in his right fist, squeezing slowly. "Tin Man like annoying bug," he sneered.

Tony could already feel the sharp metal where the suit was caving in stabbing into his sides. He screamed in agony for a moment before the Hulk stopped squeezing. Tony tried to speak, but his breathing was ragged and uneven. "Bruce," he coughed, tasting copper. "I know you’re in there, please." And he was begging. He searched the Hulk’s eyes and he could see the conflict warring in them. Whatever had set Bruce off, he was clearly in less control than usual and Tony suspected it was somehow similar to Loki’s staff all those years ago.

Bruce stared at him again, Tony could see it was him, though he was still big and green, but Hulk shook his head suddenly, snarling, and Bruce was gone. "Puny Banner not here." He squeezed again, and this would be Tony’s last sight. His best friend killing him and he had no one to blame. He tried to inhale, but was choking on his own blood. The last thing he saw before his vision darkened was lightning strike the Hulk.

_You’re a little late,_ Tony thought tiredly. And hey, he’d finally get to sleep now. **God** he hated Octobers.


	2. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Wade go trick-or-treating without Peter's dads for the first time. He's a big kid now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Peter and Wade were not childhood friends, but in this universe they are. I don't care, it's too cute not to let it be. I love kid fics with the two of them. Warnings for vague mentions of possible abuse, but nothing more graphic than that. Let me know what you think!

"If you’re not back by 10pm on the dot, I will officially assemble the Avengers to find you, do not think I’m kidding, I am not kidding. This is no joke. On second thought, maybe we should come with you. You can start going on your own next year, I don’t know why I let your Pops talk me into this, I’m going to go get my things. I could use the exercise anyway," and he was rambling. Tony knew he was rambling. Somewhere deep down, he knew he was being unreasonable too, but he was just so _nervous_.

Steve placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder and gave a tight squeeze. It grounded Tony, reminded him that he wasn’t alone in his anxiety. It also had the added side effect of shutting him up. "They will be fine, Tony. Your dad knows you’ll be fine because you’re a mature, well-behaved big boy now, aren’t you?" Steve directed the last comment towards Peter.

To his credit, Peter nodded with the seriousness of a soldier on a mission. "Of course, Pops." He looked at Tony, who was crossing his arms tensely in an attempt to stop fidgeting, "Plus I’ve got JARVIS, right dad?" He held up his Stark phone proudly with a grin. It was not a commercially available model; Tony had designed it just for Peter. It had JARVIS on it, just like all of his own devices.

Tony tried to glare at the grinning kid, but the lopsided smile slid onto his face without his permission. The kid was just so cute. "Yeah, yeah. Get over her and give your old man another hug," he spread his arms open wide, bending to one knee.

Peter hugged him fiercely before backing away to stand next to his friend, Wade, again. "We gotta go, we’re gonna miss the good candy!"

Wade nodded in agreement. The two boys had decided to coordinate their costumes this year, and Steve had already forced them to photograph for an hour today. Wade made for a very skinny Wolverine while Peter’s eyes were hidden behind his Cyclops goggles Tony had helped him make. He had done most of it himself, but Tony had to help a little with the LED wiring. The effect was worth it. Tony made sure to text Professor X a pic, knowing Xavier could appreciate his son’s adoration of the X-Men.

"Back by ten!" Steve yelled after them as they took off into his old neighborhood. He reached over to lace his fingers through Tony’s. "Let’s go to dinner." He felt warm and fuzzy. His family was everything he could’ve wanted in life, and memories of trick-or-treating with Bucky had him nostalgic.

"That’s not along the path that my dads laid out for us," Peter said uncertainly when Wade began pulling him towards another neighborhood an hour later. Pops had been very particular about where they were allowed to trick-or-treat, but Wade did have a point. They were nearly finished with all of the houses on that path, and there was still another hour before they had to head back and meet his parents.

"Pete, c’mon. Do you really want to pass up on all that extra candy and go home early? There’s no reason your dads even have to know. I sure won’t tell." His eyes were alight with mischief. If anyone could convince Peter Stark-Rogers to ~~break~~ bend the rules, Wade Wilson was the man for the job. He wasn’t sure why he could, Peter was usually such a stickler for rules, but when Wade set them on a path of mischief, it always resulted in laughter and a good time. Plus there was something extra fun about having a shared secret they could allude to later.

Peter bit his lip, a slight blush colouring his cheeks, and Wade wished he didn’t have those goggles on. He wanted to look his best friend in the eyes to see what he was thinking. Without explaining himself, Peter suddenly whipped out his phone and turned it off. "Can’t have JARVIS alerting them," he explained when Wade stared at him in confusion.

Wade felt his face break into a grin. He gripped Pete’s arm again. "Let’s go!" and the two boys took off running, determined to get twice the candy they already had.

Tony pushed the lava cake around his plate, watching it slide in a fudge trail. Steve knew he hadn’t really touched his meal either. Finishing his own slice of pie, he leaned forward to catch Tony’s attention. "Are you really that nervous?"

Tony startled, looking up to meet Steve’s eyes. "That obvious, huh?" He smirked, but the fear was clear in his eyes.

Steve reached out to clasp his lovers’ hands. "Honey, you haven’t eaten at all. And Italian is your favourite." He searched Tony’s eyes for a hint of why this bothered him so much. All he saw was raw fear. He sighed. "Parents are out on porches watching over all the kids, no one is going to get nabbed without plenty of witnesses, and Peter knows the path, he can’t get lost. Buck and I started trick-or-treating on our own even younger than this!" He let go and threw his hands up, exasperated when Tony didn’t seem convinced. He loved the man with all of his being, but it was a constant battle to keep the genius from helicopter parenting and smothering their son in protection. "When did you?" Maybe this had something to do with a traumatic experience. Steve knew there was still plenty about Tony’s childhood that he never talked about.

Tony’s face scrunched up in confusion. "When did I what? You lost me, Cap."

Steve shook his head amusedly. "When did you start trick-or-treating without Jarvis?" It was a fairly safe assumption that Howard and Maria had never taken Tony, so Steve figured it was probably Jarvis. The butler was more of a dad to Tony than Howard.

Tony surprised him with a sharp laugh. "Steve, I never trick-or-treated, that was something for normal kids." It hurt Steve, the way Tony sounded so casual about that. His tone gave no inkling of sarcasm or that he had the notion that there was something wrong with that. "Oh god, Steve, you look like a kicked puppy. It’s not a big deal."

The server returned with their check, and Tony filled out the receipt with a flourish. "Did you ever get to be a child?" Steve asked quietly. Tony gave him a pained smile. It was answer enough. They stood, and Steve put his arm around Tony’s waist as they exited. He wished, not for the first time, that he could bring Howard back from the grave to kick his ass. "We should throw a costume party next year," he suggested suddenly. It wasn’t trick-or-treating, but at least Tony would get to dress up. Peter would love it too, and he could just guess at how thrilled Thor would be to participate in another Midgardian holiday.

Tony chuckled, probably thinking along the same lines. "Yeah, okay sweetheart," he agreed easily. They took their time walking back towards Steve’s old neighborhood. The sun was slowly setting, the sky a gorgeous array of orange and pinks. Tony inhaled the crisp autumn air and allowed his current happiness to chase away the lingering bitterness about his childhood for the time being. He had a great life. The love of his life had married him, they adopted a wonderful son, and his team had become his extended family where he never really had a real one. Life was good.

"We’re lost," Peter’s voice wobbled, but his tears didn’t spill over. None of the houses in sight looked familiar, and Peter couldn’t remember what street they had started on anymore. He should have never listened to Wade.

"No we’re not," Wade said quickly, leading the way in the same direction they had been walking for what seemed like forever. "I know where we’re going," his voice confident.

The problem was that Peter knew him too well. He could always tell when Wade was lying. "No you don’t!" He shouted angrily. He was scared and tired, his feet hurt, and he just wanted to go home. "You’re just making it up and you know it." He stomped his feet to punctuate his words.

Wade stopped walking to face his friend. It wasn’t such a big deal that they were lost. Why did Peter care so much? They’d make it back eventually. Wade always found his way eventually. "Fine, you’re right," he admitted. "But if we walk around, we’ll figure it out eventually. Chill out."

Peter shook his head and his face was red now. The tears finally began streaking down his cheeks. He knew Wade was never scared, and he wanted to be brave like him but he just wasn’t, okay? New York was huge and full of scary people who did horrible things. He would know, his parents had to fight the scary people all the time. "It’s not chill," he cried miserably. "I’m scared," he admitted in a whisper.

Wade pulled him into a hug. Peter was trembling and hiccupping. "I’m sorry," he comforted. Peter was such a scaredy-cat. He should have expected a reaction like this. It was a real testament to how scared the younger kid was that he hadn’t thought of the obvious on his own. He grabbed Peter’s shoulders and pushed him out of the hug, forcing them to be face to face. "But I promise we’re fine. Just turn your phone back on, and JARVIS will navigate."

Slow realization dawned on Peter, and he gaped at the other boy. "I didn’t think of that, I’m so stupid," his voice was even more miserable now. "Plus now my dads will know we broke the rules."

Wade reached out and snatched away the costume goggles so he could really look at his friend. "Peter, listen to me." He waited until Peter was meeting his gaze. "You are not stupid." His voice was firm. "You were scared and that makes thinking hard. You’re one of the smartest people I know. You even understand what I’m saying when my brain won’t make words right," and that got a giggle from Peter. Peter’s giggle always made Wade’s stomach feel weird. He didn’t really know why but it wasn’t completely unpleasant. "And your dads will just be happy we’re okay."

Peter stared at Wade for a moment in silence. He wished he could control his blush whenever Wade complimented him, it was so embarrassing. "Yeah, okay."

"Young sir, you are off your trick-or-treat path," JARVIS sounded peeved. "Would you care to explain?"

Peter groaned. "JARVIS just help us find our way back, please?" He knew he was whining, but he really was tired.

There was a beat before JARVIS responded, "head north and turn left at the next street sign." Peter and Wade let out a collective sigh of relief. They were going to get chewed out enough as it is, they didn’t need a lecture from J too.

It turned out Wade was still allowed to spend the night, probably because Tony and Steve never really liked to send him home to his abusive parents, though they hadn’t found proof to give to children’s services yet. Peter was going to be grounded for two weeks.

"I really think it should be two months," Tony muttered bitterly as they entered the penthouse from the elevator.

Steve chuckled. He could understand the sentiment. "I think Peter scared himself enough that it was a punishment on its own, Tony."

Peter blushed but didn’t look away. "I wasn’t _that_ scared."

Wade burst out laughing, and that was really more of a cackle. Wade was cackling at him and Peter glared at the other kid. Wade showed no remorse and just stuck his tongue out before Peter took off chasing him towards his room.

Later that night, when they had finally come down from the sugar rush and were almost asleep, JARVIS spoke up. "I just want you to know, young sir, you’re never truly lost if you have me."

Peter smiled sleepily at the ceiling. "Thanks, J" he whispered before drifting off to his dreams.


	3. Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets kidnapped by an old friend. Why did people have to hold grudges for so damn long? And couldn't they just wait until November? Was that too much to ask?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Tony, I just love hurting you. I threw in some Tiberius because he's one of my favourite Tony enemies. The whole close friend gone sour deal is just a good trope. Warning for being bound and feelings of hopelessness.
> 
> Also, come check out my tumblr [here](http://rhysie-cakes314.tumblr.com) Comments and kudos are appreciated as always!

This time, he blamed Pepper. He really, really did. And of all months to get kidnapped, October was really the most inconvenient, he had so much work to do. Couldn’t villains at least try to schedule things around his life? November. November would be a great month to get kidnapped, Tony decided. No big SI commitments, no holidays he cared about, the weather wasn’t great…

Wait, when had Tony’s life gotten to the point where there could be a great month to be kidnapped!? He shook his head at himself. He had stopped counting the number of times he was kidnapped by 16, it was just too often. Having a famous, rich dad made him a great target for ransom nappings, being a genius made him a target when people wanted him to make things, owning SI made him a ransom target again, and then being Iron Man meant he was sometimes kidnapped just out of spite. Or maybe that was also from being Tony Stark. He made a lot of enemies.

He gave his wrists a tug, testing the strength of the rope and knots that had his arms tied behind the hard wooden chair. Not much give there. He tried to move his legs against the ropes, only to realize his legs were actually being held together and to the chair by a metal contraption. The cold metal against his legs with only his slacks in between was a surprise, and it brought him more completely out of his stupor.

His head ached. Tony wasn’t sure what they drugged him with, but he hoped it wasn’t too dangerous. Pepper knew better than to take coffee from another employee before giving it to him. She knew any food items had to come through high security clearance personnel before it could be handed to Tony. It was only a logical policy to have given his history with assassination attempts as well as… yep, you guessed it, kidnappings!

The door on the other side of the room opened. Tony watched the man approaching him warily. He could recognize that face anywhere, had grown up with the guy even. They had lost contact a long time ago. Tony hadn’t had a clue where Tiberius Stone had disappeared to after his old man had gone bankrupt. There had been rumours about the man buying out small companies abroad, amassing resources, but Tony hadn’t paid them much attention. He had assumed Ty wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

"Hello Tony," Ty’s voice was familiar in a way Tony wasn’t prepared for. It thrust him back to the days when they had been close. It left a bittersweet taste of nostalgia for the friendly rivalry that had helped motivate and keep him sane through his whole childhood. Tony stared at the man in stony silence. A slow smile formed on the kidnapper’s face. "What, no greeting for your best friend?" he asked in a sarcastically saccharine tone. He stuck out his lower lip in a mock pout.

"I didn’t know best friends disappeared without a goodbye then kidnapped their friends decades later," Tony responded quietly. He was proud of the way the bitterness stayed out of his voice. He merely sounded bored. In truth it had hurt when he suddenly couldn’t get a hold of his friend. Nobody likes to be ghosted.

Ty chuckled, and Tony had missed the sound. In a fairly lonely childhood with terrible parents, a friend like Ty was everything. Being wrapped in his arms used to feel like home in a way the Stark Mansion never could despite Jarvis’ best efforts. The sound cut off abruptly, and Tony watched the other man’s face suddenly snap into a cold glare, no trace of the previous mirth. The look seemed wrong on Ty. His eyes looked empty. Tony tried to quell the pang of sadness he felt for his kidnapper. What had the world done to him?

"No, I suppose they don’t," he conceded. He circled the chair in a marvelous impression of a cat with a trapped mouse. "Then again we haven’t been friends for a long time, have we?"

He was watching Tony expectantly. It had seemed like a rhetorical question to Tony, but what did he know? "No, and I’m tired, so can we skip to the part where you explain why I’m tied to a chair?"

A flash of fury before the smile returned. "That’s simple, really. I can’t have you gallivanting about where people can see you if I want them to believe the story my journalists are running about you." A wave of dread washed over Tony. People wouldn’t be looking for him if they thought he had a reason to be gone. "According to the presses, you’re actually in the Bahamas with a gaggle of hookers, drinking and partying while you ignore your responsibilities. It’s reminiscent of the old days, we all thought you had outgrown it but here we are."

That… was a believable story. He wanted to think that people wouldn’t believe it, that his friends wouldn’t think so low of him, but he wasn’t delusional. Everyone knew he was unreliable. No matter how long it had been since Tony had pulled a stunt like that, there was always the air of anticipation for when the billionaire playboy would fail them all again. He was suddenly exhausted, resigned to the situation. "What do you want?"

Ty smirked again and if Tony had the energy it’d be infuriating. "Nothing from you. You can just sit tight while the press has their way with you and your company goes into crisis mode. It was really only a matter of time before you disappointed them all, right Tony?" cutting right to Tony’s core. That was the problem when someone knew you as well as Ty knew him, they could use your fears and weaknesses against you.

Tony looked at the ceiling if only to give himself a reprieve from looking at Ty. "How long," his voice monotone.

Ty laughed again and Tony wanted to punch him. His eyes roamed over Tony, "I’d guess three days tops before you die of dehydration, but you’ve surprised me before."

That could not be a fun way to go. The panic settled quickly in his gut as Ty’s back began retreating. This was actually a good plan. "Wait!" he cried. Ty turned, an eyebrow arched. "Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?"

Ty shook his head. "Your father condemned you to this," he said simply before closing the door to Tony’s coffin.

This was really all about Howard bankrupting Stone? That was over twenty years ago. Tony and Ty had only been children, barely broaching adulthood, how could Ty blame him? He’d had people hate him because of Howard before, it was nothing new, but never someone who really knew him. How long would he be haunted by the actions of Howard? The man made his life miserable enough as a child; it’d be nice if he could give it a rest from beyond the grave. His only hope was that someone would find the sudden vacation suspicious. Maybe Steve. Steve seemed to like him recently, like maybe he thought Tony wasn’t like the tabloids said. Steve looked at him with fond smiles and listened to his ranting with patience. Steve defended him when reporters shouted nasty questions no matter how many times Tony told him to let it be. He smiled at the memories.

...

"They’ve always been like that, Cap. I just ignore them," Tony said easily.

Steve was flushed with anger and it was adorable. He got that pink hue so easily. "But they just spew lies, it’s disgusting! They don’t even _know_ you," he was so earnest, Tony could not be blamed for laughing. Steve only blushed deeper.

" Steve, you’re so naive, it’s cute. This is just a part of being Tony Stark." Steve loved the lopsided smile Tony had, his real smile. How could anyone really expect him to keep quiet when people harassed the man? Tony was a hero and Steve’s best friend. They might even be bordering on something more, with the flirtatious dance they’d been doing around each other lately. Steve thought he’d probably like that. He would be a great boyfriend for Tony. He’d shower him with all the love and adoration the man deserved.

_Yeah, if I survive this I’m asking Steve out on a proper date,_ Tony decided. Nothing like a kidnapping to inspire your love life, right?

…

Tony couldn’t decide which was worse, the thirst or sitting in his own waste. The smell was nauseating but he knew if he allowed himself to vomit he’d only die faster. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing, even though no one was here to see it. Unlike his usual kidnappings, there wasn’t even a camera in the room to indicate that he was being watched. He was thoroughly alone.

The isolation with no view of the sun made it impossible to tell how long it had been since Ty had left. He wondered idly if the man was even still in the building, or if he’d just went home, confident in his own success. Tony kept nodding off for unknown lengths of time, which added to his disorientation. It was deeply worrying that he hadn’t urinated in a long time.

This was definitely the worst headache Tony had ever experienced. He couldn’t think straight. He tried to lick his cracked lips, but it was useless. He had no more saliva. There was no way he could be sure that the crash he heard outside the door was real. He angled his head to look at the door. Holding his head up was too much work. The door swung open, or he hallucinated the door swinging open, and the hopefully real Steve was back-lit. He looked like an angel.

Steve was hit with the stench first. Tony had clearly been forced to sit in his own excretions, and the man’s gaze was unfocused. He lurched forward, wasting no time slamming the shield over the lock and cutting the ropes binding Tony. Tony groaned and it might have been an attempt at saying Steve, and Steve caught him as he fell sideways off the chair. "Tony, I’ve got you. Can you hear me?"

Tony responded, but it was too slurred to make heads or tails of. Steve frowned. Was he drugged? He didn’t have any wounds or bruises. Steve put his fingers to Tony’s neck, his pulse was weak and too fast. He was warm to the touch but there was no sweat and that was worrying. Scooping the light man into his arms, he broke into a sprint to get outside again. He was glad SHIELD had sent medical with him when they finally got the location out of Stone.

Steve had nearly passed out when Stone finally confessed where Tony was. It wasn’t a disappointed surrender to the situation. Tiberius Stone was bragging, as though he was confident Tony was already dead. The thought had robbed Steve of his breath. Natasha had had to catch him before he hit the ground as his knees gave out. Tony couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

The medics were quick to take over, examining Tony as they loaded the stretcher into the helicopter. Steve didn’t want to leave Tony’s side, but there was definitely no room for him on the small chopper. He watched them take off before turning to find which SHIELD agent would drive him to the hospital. Tony would be fine. Tony was getting help, he’d be fine. There just wasn’t another option. _Please be fine, Tony._


	4. Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was hard to pinpoint when it started. Little troubles easily dismissed as bad luck or simple mistakes grew incrementally until the only logical conclusion was that something was wrong. Very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _promise_ everyone will be okay. This specific plot will be continued later in the month for one of the other prompts, so the injured characters can recover. This is kind of all hurt without the comfort I'm sorry! There's bits of Stony and Phlint in this one. Warning for bleeding I suppose. 
> 
> Also I finally figured out how I like to make Tony's override codes so that they can mean things, and hid a little joke so if you figure it out, let me know :)

It was hard to pinpoint when it started. Little troubles easily dismissed as bad luck or simple mistakes grew incrementally until the only logical conclusion was that something was wrong. Very wrong.

Clint would wager it started with the game of darts with Sam. He missed a shot, and Hawkeye never misses a shot. Everyone pointed out that he had been injured and tired from battle, but Clint knew something was amiss. Steve thought he remembered his sketchbook being ruined by the exploding pen happening before that, but he could be wrong. Tony was 68.2% certain that it began with his suit’s repulsor misfiring during the AIM raid. Natasha and Phil decided it must be when Fury lost his eyepatch, because the man never lost his eyepatch. When did Nick Fury misplace something? Bruce might guess it was the most recent chemical explosion in his lab, but Tony argued those were frequent enough that maybe Bruce was just too reckless with solution mixing. The laughter was unanimously uproarious at the suggestion coming from the most reckless scientist in the building. Thor unabashedly proclaimed that he did not pay attention to details so he would never have noticed the start.

The point of the matter was that it was impossible to narrow down. It was like an old wives’ tale. When people break a mirror, they have seven years of bad luck. It does happen in real life. Now does it happen to everyone who breaks a mirror? No. But it does happen. Plenty would say that the bad luck and the broken mirror were a coincidence; that the correlation was imaginary. Psychology would say that confirmation bias leads a person to decide that their perfectly normal amount of bad luck has increased or that they notice bad luck more because they’re looking for it. The chaos of the universe seems more neat and logical if they have something to blame for their troubles in a bad time in their life. So were the Avengers under some curse or were they in the midst of a mental breakdown?

"If you don’t get your heads out of your asses soon," Fury took a moment to look around the conference room at each individual, "I will be forced to bench the whole team. Not only for your own safety, but one of you is going to hurt a civilian next."

Clint was the first to protest, "That’s not fair, sir! It’s not us with our heads up our asses, it’s you!" Fury was unfazed by the remark as usual. "Clearly this is the work of an enemy, sabotage or something. My bet is on Loki."

"My brother has nothing to do with this," Thor snapped. "He is not responsible for every unexplained misfortune in our lives, you know." The god was miffed. The Loki-as-a-scapegoat routine was getting old. He hadn’t antagonized them in any really threatening way in a long time, merely silly pranks.

The rest of the room exchanged glances. Loki was a perfectly logical suspect given his track record, but Thor was biased even if he claimed he trusted Loki no more than a stranger anymore. "Whatever the cause, though for the record I agree that it is not all our faults, Fury is right to be worried." Steve stated severely. "Natasha shot Clint in the shoulder last mission! We can’t keep on like this."

"Oh, Cap, it was merely a graze," Clint waved his hand dismissively.

"I already explained that the gun misfired, Rogers" and Natasha’s face conveyed perfect calm and no malice, but her voice was dangerous.

Tony propped his head up with his elbows on the table, smirking. "That still doesn’t explain why you had a loaded gun aimed at him though," he sounded far too gleeful.

Steve slapped Tony’s head without missing a beat, "Quit trying to start fights, Tony." It should have been angry but they could all hear the fondness. Despite their increase in fights recently, Tony and Steve were still sickeningly smitten with each other since last October.

Fury stood, effectively silencing the room. "I don’t care if you need therapy or an exorcist, figure it out,”" he officially ended the meeting, before storming out of the room.

The room was silent for a moment. Tony clamored out of his chair suddenly, startling Steve. "That’s it! An exorcist!" The genius nearly ran out of the room, muttering to himself.

"I think Stark has actually lost it," Phil stated simply. No one could confidently refute it after that display. They all began to make their way home, ready to collapse from exhaustion. Everyone of them had at least some minor injury at this point, and no one had been sleeping well the past week. They all had nightmares, it was no secret, but they were never all plagued with them at the same time. Sleep deprivation was surely causing some of their mistakes on the field.

Steve found Tony in the lab, surrounded by holographic graphs and lists. He didn’t know how spinning in a chair and looking at all of them so quickly didn’t make his boyfriend dizzy. Steve felt dizzy just looking at him. "Hey love," he approached. He knew by now that sometimes Tony was so in the zone he didn’t notice Steve enter, so he was prepared for no answer.

Tony started, looking up with his eyebrows knit in confusion. "Huh?"

Steve felt the dopey smile on his face. Tony was so cute, whether he was making calculations at a mile a minute or completely out of it. "I said hey love," he replied patiently.

Tony blinked away the fog on his mind. It was happening more and more, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hide it. His brain was short circuiting or something, he would be doing one thing, his thoughts would get all jumbled and stop making sense, then he’d snap back to normal as though nothing had happened. It scared him. What use was he to anyone if not a genius? ~~What if it was early dementia or something?~~ It had to be related to this curse they were under.

Fury had inspired the idea, and he normally would never suspect the supernatural, but he had exhausted any scientific explanations for just how shit things had gotten. His family was behaving out of character and shooting each other, highly improbable accidents were happening all the time, there had to be a cause. With that in mind he had JARVIS pull up a log of every injury or mistake in the last few months and a log of each individual Avenger’s activities including purchases, enemies fought, items touched, anything. It was a lot of data but Tony was confident he could figure out a pattern. 

He had found a range of only a few days where the steady increase of incidents had started. The likelihood of incident was exponentially increasing and it had started sometime about four weeks ago. After he narrowed down the data to sift through his brain had done the thing. He frowned, annoyed at all of it. "Yeah, hey Steve, hold on a sec." He quickly swept away the extraneous tables he had created leaving the mess a little less cluttered. "J, you have an idea of what I’m looking for now?"

"I believe so, sir. Would you like me to continue the search on my own for the time being?" He loved JARVIS, the AI always knew what he wanted.

"Yeah. Get back to me with your findings." He swept the holograms down and they disappeared. Now he could see Steve properly. "What’s up, honeybunches?" He stretched, wincing with each pop of his spine.

Steve wrapped his arms around his genius and put their foreheads together, just breathing in his presence. Tony could feel how tense the supersoldier was, so he started kneading at the others shoulders. The boiling anxiety slowly subsided to a simmer in the background. That was probably the best he could get at the moment. "What are you up to?" he asked.

"Oh, you know," Tony pulled away, heading towards the elevator with Steve following. He needed to mainline some caffeine. "Just figuring out to fix our messes, the usual."

"I have no doubt," laughter audible in Steve’s tone. "I’m just wondering _how_ this time?"

Tony started the second pot of coffee while he began downing the first. Sleep was overrated anyway. "Well, I think I’ve figured out when whatever this is started. It’s insane when you look at the numbers, really, we’ve always had accidents and injuries whatever, comes with the job, right? But Steve, the sheer number of incidents has increased exponentially for the last four weeks! If it keeps up at this rate…" he trailed off. Steve knew what he meant anyway. Someone was going to get killed if this kept up. All it took was the right slip up in the field, and the team could be dropping like flies.

"It’s actually exponential? Like you’re not just being dramatic?" Bruce asked from the hallway. He had stopped in his tracks when what Tony had said sunk in.

Tony knocked back the last of the first coffee pot and grabbed a mug. He could drink like the masses for the second. "I wish."

JARVIS chose that moment to cut in. "Sir, I believe I have narrowed down the possible triggers to your dilemma to a short list. I’m sending it now."

Tony snatched the tablet up that was sitting on the breakfast bar. He scanned the list and frowned. He scanned it again. The words were disappearing from his mind as quickly as he read them. He wasn’t even absorbing information. This confirmed they were on the right track, he decided. Whatever magic this was did not want him to figure it out. Tony shoved the tablet at Steve first. "Do me a favour and tell me what that list says."

Steve read the one page list. It was nonsensical. He looked back at Tony, confused. "I- what?"

Tony nodded violently. "Exactly!" He took the tablet from Steve and thrust it at Bruce. "Now Bruce, read that out loud."

Bruce was starting to really believe Tony had lost it. He looked down to do as he was asked but, he couldn’t. "Tony, is this even English?"

"I assure you, Dr. Banner, that the list is in English." JARVIS answered before Tony could speak.

Tony threw his hands up. "I knew it! I fucking knew it! God I hate magic, only magic does shit like this. How am I supposed to work in these conditions? It’s just not workable."

Steve and Bruce shrugged at each other before trailing after Tony. The man flung himself onto the couch glaring at the ceiling. "What are you talking about, Tony? What am I missing?" Bruce tried.

"The only explanation I can come up with is that this is magic, and it won’t allow us to find the cause so we can’t fix it. It’s so classic magic." He closed his eyes, too exhausted to keep up. Had he made decaf by accident?

He wanted to just have a nap, then maybe he’d wake up and find out that this was the nightmare. "Why don’t we ask Dr. Strange to help? He kind of owes you for last year anyway," Steve, ever the practical one, suggested.

Tony groaned. He was openly vocal about how much he hated asking for magic users for help, it was an affront to his being. Science should always be able to reveal the answers. He sighed, opening his eyes again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this tired without collapsing for at least an hour. "Just call him, J. I have no shred of my dignity left anyway." He grabbed Steve by the wrist, starting to drag him towards the hall. "Let’s go take a nap, please. Strange always takes a few hours to contact anyway. He says it’s because he doesn’t have signal in other dimensions, but I think he just leaves his phone lying around the Sanctum."

"Oh god yes," Steve agreed. "I haven’t slept through the whole night in days."

Bruce was left standing next to the couch, alone. Someone should tell the others Tony’s thoughts. The team parents had clearly not thought about letting them know they had a lead. It was a testament to how tired they were; Steve always thought of everyone. Bruce could empathize, he needed a nap too. He headed towards the gym. Nat and Clint had mentioned sparring earlier, and Phil always pretended to do his paperwork in the gym while Clint sparred. He fooled no one. They all knew he was just watching Clint. Bruce imagined those two probably used to be as bad as Steve and Tony back when they first met, but the two SHIELD agents had been in a relationship for several years. The honeymoon period was long over.

Thor happened to be there too, talking animatedly about some Netflix show to Phil. For the agent’s part, he was just nodding everytime Thor raised his voice in excitement, an amused expression on his face. Clint and Nat were sprawled out on a mat, too tired to continue sparring. None of them bought Bruce’s story until he had Jarvis show them the list himself. It was hard to wrap their heads around. Thor was the most unwilling to accept the idea.

He slammed a fist into the wall in frustration. "This is clearly not a language. JARVIS is malfunctioning. I know Allspeak. There is no language I can’t read."

"But could an illusion make it look like a non-language?" Clint countered. He yawned.

Thor was actually pouting. Clint would have never believed that his life would be like this. He saw a god pouting almost daily. A god. If you had told him this as a kid, he would’ve laughed and told you that a con has to be believable.

"I suppose," Thor admitted begrudgingly.

Stephen Strange was standing in the common room waiting for the team to assemble three hours later. His hands were clasped behind his back. Clint was pretty sure the man was glowing, but that could also be his eyes playing tricks. He needed sleep.

Tony and Steve hadn’t succeeded in their nap either. Dr. Strange studied each of the Avengers like they were interesting paintings, and the room was awkwardly quiet. Tony refused to believe that Strange didn’t make everyone uncomfortable on purpose. He saw through it. Stephen Strange acted just a bit odder and just a bit more mysterious than he actually was so people would let him stay isolated. That was Tony’s hypothesis anyway; it was similar enough to Tony’s antics when he didn’t want people getting close. He had yet to have the chance to test the hypothesis (his plan was to get the sorcerer drunk).

"You all aren’t sleeping," Strange observed. No one denied it, so he continued. "You’re under a curse. I felt it as soon as I entered the premises. It’s a strong one, too; I’m surprised none of you have died yet. I should place some protective charms on this place after we banish this curse." The last part seemed to be Strange thinking aloud more than talking to his audience. Everyone fidgeted while the speaker stood in silent contemplation for a moment.

Phil lost his patience. He had to be tired because Clint had never seen the man lose his patience. "How do we ‘banish the curse’?" he bit out.

Dr. Strange turned to Phil. "Right, I need to cast some seeking spells to determine exactly what the origin is, but I believe it to be a cursed object in one of the bedrooms. It was most likely previously owned by someone who died violently. Once I identify the object, I’ll just bind the curse and move it to the Sanctum Sanctorum."

"_Clint_ ," Tony seethed, pointing an accusatory finger at the archer. "This is your fault!"

"Whoa, hey, easy there," Clint held his hands up in surrender. "How is this my fault!?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "I _told_ you to stop buying all that weird shit from antique stores! They just _look_ like cursed objects, they’re creepy."

That was just completely unfair. Clint liked old things to decorate his room. Lots of people liked antiques. Granted, he did pick the stranger looking objects typically, but only because it reminded him of his carnie days in a good way. "You just don’t appreciate a nice antique, you rich snob." He had meant it to sound joking, Tony’s tone had been only semi-serious, but Clint was losing control of his emotions. Clint tamped down the urge to punch Tony. This is what happened when people didn’t sleep, their fuses shrank.

"Alright, you carnie freak, you don’t have a problem with my ‘snobbiness’ when you’re consuming the finest wines or my expensive coffee." Tony was standing now and Clint didn’t remember rising to his own feet. They were inches from each other. Someone could cut through the tension with a knife.

Steve saw the situation unraveling fast. "Hey, let’s not-" but whatever his attempt to diffuse the situation was going to be was drowned out by the alarm. "Fuck, we’re not battle-safe, fuck," Steve was cursing. The world was upside down if Steve Rogers was using foul language.

Natasha leapt to the door, already heading to change. "Speak for yourself, I’m perfectly capable of fighting on a little less sleep." When Steve looked ready to protest, she stopped him, "look, Fury knows what shape we’re in. If he’s still sounding the alarm to assemble? It’s clearly important."

Tony groaned, anger at Clint completely forgotten. "Whelp, can’t argue with that logic. Let’s hop to it!" He turned to Strange, "You think you’ll get this over with quickly? We’re not going to last much longer without rest," he hated needing Stephen Strange so much, but his desperation overrode his pride.

"Easily." the Sorcerer Supreme was a smug bastard.

…

The battle was not going well. Whatever Victor von Doom’s newest update to the doombots was, they were proving much sturdier than usual. It’d be fine if there weren’t so many. Each Avenger was swarmed with bots, trying to fight off several at a time just to survive. Doctor Doom himself was using the distraction to set up a scary-looking weapon that would probably destroy New York or something. Hulk and Thor were fairing a little better than the others, but Hulk needing to stop and fight his body’s attempts to morph back. Apparently an unrested Bruce could not hold Hulk form well. It made sense.

Clint had to take a page out of Black Widow’s book and fight with a well placed knife because his arrows were useless against these things. Clint could fight nearly as well as Natasha, but the Black Widow program wasn’t a failure. Natasha Romanov had advantages over unmodified humans. She could move just that much faster, was just that much stronger.

Clint wrenched the knife out what he had taken to calling the doombots’ neck and it twitched on the ground uselessly. There weren’t many vulnerable openings on these things. He supposed they weren’t actually doombots, that’s what Doctor Doom called his look-alike bots, and there were much less humanoid, but the team was just calling any bots Doom showed up with doombots at this point. Tony and Clint had been coming up with names for each type for a while, but it was only fun for the first ten times. The searing pain in his right side came with no warning. Clint had lost track of his 6 o’clock, it was a rookie mistake. He was just so tired. He couldn’t really hear anything over a shocked ringing in his ears, and he had already crumpled to the ground. He tried to stop the bleeding from the new gaping wound in his side, but there was too much.

Tony had tried to warn Hawkeye, he saw the opening Clint had left but his shouted warning was too late. He scanned the battlefield, and Tony was the closest to his fallen friend. He landed beside Clint fighting off three bots that were closing in. Iron Man knelt down, pulling Clint’s shaky hands away from the wound to inspect it. He couldn’t do much with enemies still everywhere, so he scooped the man up and took off for the nearest empty rooftop. The man was already too pale.

"Clint, I’m sorry, this is going to be agony, but I’ve got to stop the bleeding." He searched Clint’s face for a sign that the man had understood what he said. Clint’s eyes were glassy, but he nodded firmly. He knew what Tony meant. The scream would haunt them all.

Clint’s entry and exit wounds hastily cauterized, Tony had no choice but to leave him there and hope for the best. "Hold on, don’t die on me birdbrain."

"Tony," Clint’s voice was pained, but it meant he was still awake so small victories. "I’m sorry about what I said. I-"

"Stop," Tony cut him off sharply. "Don’t be stupid, it doesn’t matter, just hang in there." He took off without looking back. Clint would not last long and there were a lot of bots left. Doom’s weapon also looked nearly completed. This couldn’t be how the Avengers went down, not to Doom of all people. They’ve fought much stronger. Tony needed to end this _now_. " I’ve stopped Hawkeye’s bleeding for now," was all Tony said before switching his comm off.

"JARVIS, you remember that code silver weapon we talked about?"

JARVIS sounded hesitant. "Sir, that’s not so much a weapon. It’s more of a-"

"A self-destruct I know, but I’m not seeing many other options here." JARVIS remained silent, and Tony knew that meant he couldn’t come up with a better plan. _I just hope it’ll actually work_ , Tony thought to himself.

"JARVIS, command code 2085-239185, execute code silver." Tony allowed himself a small smile at the reference in his command code. He really hoped this worked, and theoretically he could survive it, even. It was just untested and unstable.

Steve watched Iron Man land in the middle of the battle and something was very wrong. Tony wasn’t fighting he was just standing still, like he was waiting for something to happen. "Iron Man, what-" but he cut himself off with a gasp. The arc reactor rapidly grew brighter before a flash of light that somehow became a halo that rippled outward like a raindrop in a puddle. He had to shield his eyes, but when the light was over, all the doombots were lying on the ground uselessly, and Doom was shouting. Thor seized the opportunity and crushed the weapon.

Iron man was still standing but the reactor was dim and flickering. Clint might very well be dead soon if not already and Tony was going to die if the reactor failed and he couldn’t take this. He made it to his boyfriend’s side in time to watch the armour land flat on it’s back. Steve couldn’t see Tony’s expression when he lifted the faceplate, his tears leaving everything blurry. The reactor finally went dark and Tony arched his back, gasping.

Steve scrubbed his tears out of the way so he could get a proper look. He was already taking apart the suit, muscle memory taking over. "Tony what did you do?" he asked miserably. Tony was going to die and he had just saved New York _again_ and he needed Tony. Tony was home and everything he loved about the 21st century.

" It’s complicated," Tony ground out. He tried to give Steve a reassuring smile because the man looked so miserable and Captain America should never be that sad. Steve Rogers should never be that sad. He knew it was more of a grimace and it was hard to breath. The pain was growing with every second and he was dying. "Clint," he managed.

"Is already being taken to medical," Agent Coulson was looking down at Tony from behind the kneeling Captain. Tony saw the gratefulness in the man’s eyes and it had all been worth it. He was on a stretcher and Steve wasn’t pulled away. Tony finally let his eyes slide shut, and the world went black.


	5. Amulet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amora is up to her usual antics. Who could blame her? Thor and her were _meant to be_. He just needed time to realize. And those stupid Avengers were distracting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm embarrassed to admit that I spent far too long looking at all the magical artifacts in the Marvel universe and deciding what I wanted to use for this prompt. I knew I wanted Enchantress to make an appearance, but the possibilities seemed endless. The Amulets of Damballah are, in fact a thing, but I tweaked them a bit for my purposes. Their first appearance was in 1973 in _"Tales of the Zombie #1"_.   
>  Canon-typical violence. 
> 
> Also, this feels rushed and stinted to me, but there's still 26 days to go, so I'm trying :)

Amora eyed the matching medallions dubiously, each dangling from a thin chain necklace.. "You’re certain these are the real deal?"

The old woman’s smile was missing several teeth, and Amora wasn’t certain how the woman seemed to stare right at her when her eyes were the milky white of the Midgardian blind, but she was confident in her response. "Not many mortals are left who would recognize the Amulets of Damballah. You needn’t worry about knock-off replicas. These are suitable for your needs."

Amora searched the priestess’ body language for signs of deception, but found none. She would know, being a master of deceit herself. "I met Damballah myself, once. I thought his specialty was death, that he only worked with necromancers. How will a tool meant for the undead help me when the man is alive?" Madame whatever-her-name-was (Amora didn’t care) may be the expert in human Voodoo here, but Amora knew her gods.

The priestess threw her head back, cackling. "I have my own abilities, Enchantress. Those amulets will work on the dead and living all the same, now."

Amora allowed herself to grin. It was time she finally got what she wanted.

…

Natasha was perched on the edge of the kitchen counter beside the coffee machine. "I like your new necklace," she commented as Thor entered the room. Natasha always took a keen interest in Thor’s fashion, so she noticed any tiny changes in his everyday appearance. One of her favourite pastimes was playing dress up and makeover with Thor, partially because he was the only one who let her, and partially because it was just so entertaining. His massive demigod body managed to look good in everything from speedo to ballgown. It was also no secret that his hair was the most luscious of the group, which allowed for a myriad of experimentation for style.

Steve was off on his morning run, Phil was out of town for a mission, and Clint and Bruce were still in bed, so Tony was the only one else in the room. He lifted his head off his arms to see who she was talking to and quirked an eyebrow. "I didn’t know you liked jewelry. This opens a whole new world of possibilities for Christmas gifts."

Thor grinned proudly. He headed for the poptart cupboard. "My beautiful lady, Jane Foster gave it to me. She said it was a symbol of our undying love, and she has a matching one. I will cherish it with all of my being."

Now that he was closer, Natasha could see the details. The medallion matched the shade of gold that draped around Thor’s neck, and a snake was the only decoration. "Is Dr. Foster into snakes?"

Thor looked thoughtful for a moment. "She has never mentioned them, but I suppose she must! I thought maybe the snake was a Midgardian symbol of companionship I was unaware of."

Tony’s head had dropped back down to his arms already, but he shook with laughter. Natasha threw a butter knife at his head. "Ow! No throwing my own silverware at me. I will terminate your lease. Don’t you test me."

She didn’t look worried. "You never gave us leases. Don’t make fun of Thor if you don’t want punished."

Tony rubbed at his head. Thor laughed his booming laugh. The sound always felt too loud in the enclosed kitchen, or indoors in general, really. Tony tried to hide the fact that it startled him by jumping up for more coffee. "I believe he was laughing with me."

Natasha shrugged. "I think that was very sweet of Jane. How is she lately?" The astrophysicist sometimes came to live with them for months at a time, but it had been awhile. It was as sporadic a living arrangement as Thor, who whisked off to Asgard or landed in the roof without warning.

"She fairs well. She is giving a speech at an important conference next month." Natasha sometimes tried to imagine what the relationship was like between a scientist and a god. The idea just seemed so alien. The two seemed to both be obsessed with other worlds or realms, so she supposed that could be what they shared most. But can a human really understand a centuries old warrior-king?

"I’ll have to see if I’m going to that, I’m sure Pepper will know. Maybe I can get you an invitation, buddy," Tony pat Thor’s bicep. "I’m off to the lab now, seeya later, probably," he shouted over his shoulder. It was that time of year again. The Avengers all knew by now that seeing Tony at all was a rare occurrence in October. The man practically worked non-stop for a month straight.

Steve returned with a light sheen of sweat. Natasha noticed he always seemed to run harder October mornings. He also exercised more in general. Her theory was that Steve needed to let off extra steam and distract himself more constantly to ward off feeling lonely while Tony was squirreled away in his lab. The supersoldier usually had unfettered access to Tony’s domain and spent hours just watching the genius work or sketching him, but not in October. Tony had forbid him because his ‘ass was too distracting.’

"Captain!" Thor welcomed. "We should spar today, it has been too long."

Steve chuckled. "We just sparred last week! But sure, lord knows I’ve got time. Meet down there in an hour? I need some calories." He was already raiding the refrigerator, pulling out an egg carton, bacon, and orange juice.

"A week can be an eternity when excitement is missing from your life," Thor said mysteriously. He passed Bruce on the way out.

Bruce waved his greetings, heading straight for the tea. The group sat in companionable silence while Steve made his feast. Bruce liked to read the newspaper in the mornings. Tony kept trying to explain that a physical paper was a waste and called printing presses obsolete, but Bruce liked the feel of it. He could control the pace with which he absorbed the news instead of feel overwhelmed by the fast talking reporters on TV. Plus he liked the crosswords.

When Steve went down to the gym, Thor was already there. Steve looked at him from the doorway, curious. He looked like he was meditating. His body was still, his eyes closed. It was odd; Steve didn’t think Thor could be still. He was always so energetic. His eyes snapped open, and Steve felt the blush at being caught staring. Thor didn’t mention it though, just hopped to his feet excitedly. "Come, let us battle!"

Steve shook his head fondly. Thor brought enthusiasm to everything he did. "Only if you think you can take me," he joked.

"I’ll go easy," Thor boasted. "We wouldn’t want anyone to get injured."

Thor was decidedly _not_ going easy. The serum meant that Steve could hold up against Thor better than the others, minus Hulk, but Thor was fighting with more ferocity than usual. Steve narrowly dodged another blow, thankful they were fighting bare-handed. Even with the shield, Steve was sure Thor could hurt him with Mjolnir if he wasn’t careful. He managed a kick to Thor’s side before rolling away again. His best strategy with the god was always to stay out of reach.

" I thought," pant, "we were just," pant, parry, "sparring."

Thor backed off a little, slowing his movements while they spoke. "We are."

Steve danced around him, trying to find an opening. "You seem like you’re going harder than usual," he was concocting a strategy. Thor always turned right to spin if you got behind him. If Steve could get him to go for the turn and manage to roll and pop up in front of his left, Thor would be wide open. He’d have to be very fast. Speed was his friend against a bigger opponent.

It had to be Steve’s imagination, but Thor seemed to sneer at him. Thor didn’t sneer. "I play to win."

Suddenly wary that something was wrong with his teammate, Steve decided it was time to be done with this. He had a feeling Thor wouldn’t just let him bow out either. He leapt behind the god, and took action when Thor started to turn. He popped up to see Thor face to face with him. He had seen through the ploy.

Thor took advantage of Steve’s surprise and landed a solid gut punch. Steve actually left the ground momentarily before slamming into the mirror behind him. Some of the glass trickled away around him as he tried to regain the breath knocked out of him. Thor drew closer, but instead of kneeling to apologize or ask if he was okay, Thor smacked his head back against the wall. The world went dark.

…

The silence was deafening and sudden after the blasting metal from a moment ago. Tony looked around in confusion. "Sir, Steve has been injured in the gym while sparring with Thor," JARVIS informed him.

Tony didn’t ask questions. If JARVIS felt the need to alert him, it wasn’t just a minor injury. The elevator was fast enough to throw him off balance but he remained upright. When he arrived, Natasha and Clint weren’t far behind. The scene in front of him didn’t make sense. Steve was sitting against the mirror, chin against his chest, clearly unconscious. Behind him, Tony could make out the blood smeared on the wall from his head.

Tony didn’t even notice Thor, too busy sprinting to his boyfriend’s side. Thor waited patiently off to the side, until Tony was on his knees trying to wake Steve. Natasha and Clint were too far away to stop the god.

"Tony, watch out!" Clint cried.

Tony whipped around just in time to get sucker punched. He felt his nose break and was lying on the ground. The room spun. What was happening? He tried to lift his head, but something was in the way. He was choking. Tony blinked hard and Thor came into focus above him. But it couldn’t be Thor. His supposed friend was expressionless as he waited for Tony to stop fighting.

"It has to be an imposter, JARVIS! Scan him, who is it!?" Natasha shouted as she managed to tackle Thor away from Tony’s prone form. Tony coughed and sputtered, thankfully not dead.

"According to my scans, it is Thor. I have no explanation," JARVIS sounded as afraid as a program could.

Clint cursed, "Shit." He had Thor/not-Thor in a full nelson, but he was too strong to be immobilized. Natasha hit him in the head with a weight to no effect. "Where the fuck is the Hulk!? He can actually do something against this guy!"

"Dr. Banner is not waking at my prompts, and is in his bed. His vitals indicate he may have been drugged." JARVIS explained.

Thor threw the humans off with little effort with a shout of triumph. "You will all die! Then I can return to my beloved Amora!" he thundered.

It hit Natasha like a ton of bricks. The Enchantress. The necklace had to be controlling their friend somehow. Thor had told her about the Asgardian woman who was obsessed with Thor. She had tried many times to make him fall in love with her. They had to get the damn thing off!

A gun shot rang out, and everyone spun to see the new arrival. Phil was standing in the doorway to the gym, eyes wide and gun pointing at Thor. His bags were beside him on the floor, indicating he had just arrived. The bullet bounced uselessly off of Thor’s skin, leaving only a shallow mark. "Hit the chain around his neck!" Natasha shouted, praying he’d hit it. Phil was a good shot, but he was no Clint and it was a small target.Thor screamed in rage but the next shot hit the chain and the medallion hit the floor with a loud clang.

The effect was immediate. Thor went still, looked around like he had just woken up. They watched him slowly take in his surroundings, the horrified look solidifying on his face. "What-" he choked off. "What have I done?" His voice was quiet but echoed through the silent gym. He dropped to his knees, a sob ripping through him. Natasha wished there was time to comfort her traumatized friend, "Coulson, Bruce’s room! Clint, Tony! I’ve got Steve. JARVIS, can SHIELD pick them up at the landing pad?" No one argued, just snapped to.

JARVIS, bless him, was ahead of her. "Med evac team will land in approximately 3 minutes and are aware of the number of patients."

Natasha allowed herself to look back at Thor as she threw Steve over her shoulder. His face was wet with tears, but he was glaring right through the medallion he now held in his hand. Everyone was going to be okay, medical was already almost there. Mjolnir landed in his hand, hard from somewhere else in the tower. Thor met her eyes for a moment before he was crashing through the window. She couldn’t blame him, but she desperately hoped he’d return after taking care of the Enchantress. He needed to know that none of them blamed him. He needed to know not to blame himself.


	6. An Original Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Original Sin** _noun_ \- the tendency to sin innate in all human beings, held to be inherited from Adam in consequence of the Fall. The concept of original sin was developed in the writings of St. Augustine.  
>  **Numbers 14:18** \- “...but He will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and the fourth generations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is late, but I finished it at like 2AM promptly passed out. Original sin was such a tricky prompt to me, because it didn't really seem to fit the Halloween theme at all. And trust me, I already know that what I wrote about is not actually original sin, I went to Catholic school. But I figure Tony probably doesn't know his church teachings anyways.  
> This is pure Tony angst, with some pre-slash with Steve, and the beginnings of comfort.  
> Warnings for self-loathing and alcohol.  
> Enjoy!

**Original Sin** _noun_ \- the tendency to sin innate in all human beings, held to be inherited from Adam in consequence of the Fall. The concept of original sin was developed in the writings of St. Augustine.

**Numbers 14:18** \- "...but He will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and the fourth generations."

…

"What goes around comes around, and not always in a timely manner," Maria had warned Tony when he was only seven. Without any explanation for her words, his mother had turned out the lights and locked his door for the night. He was left alone to decipher the meaning.

It wasn’t until after his parents’ deaths and his subsequent inheritance of Stark Industries that he truly began to understand the meaning of her words. A 21 year old Tony, who had never really had any guidance from his parents, was thrust into all of their responsibilities; He had to be the new Howard Stark. How was a scared basically-kid still in shock from loss supposed to shoulder the weight? He resorted to the only thing he knew, mimicry.

Tony had plenty of childhood memories of watching his dad work. He knew how Howard talked to associates, how business was done. Tony was still doing his damnedest to be Howard when the fiasco in Afghanistan opened his eyes. Howard had left history stained in blood, and Tony had only continued to roll around in it. It should have been no surprise that he was so despised all the time. Not only did he have an uncanny resemblance to the man that made people who hate him by unconscious association, but Tony had done nothing to disprove the assumption that he would be another Howard.

This realization was what brought the memory of his mother’s words back. It had been a vague, and ultimately useless, warning that Tony would have to deal with whatever mess his parents left behind. Maria knew the things Howard did, both good and bad. For the sake of her sanity, she willingly looked the other way when she could, but she feared for her son’s future. She wanted to teach him to be better; to be a good mother who didn’t raise her son to become an alcoholic, abusive, war-profiteer. She really ached to do but right by Anthony Edward Stark, but she was weak.

Maria would look at her brilliant, innocent child, and see Howard. She knew that it wasn’t Tony’s fault he looked so much like the man, but she couldn’t help the visceral reaction. There was always an undercurrent of fear and hatred in the way she saw her own son. She hated herself for it. She depended on Jarvis to take care of the boy a lot of the time mostly because she felt sick around him. Maria knew that she and Howard were failures as parents, and that Tony would have to pay for their sins and deserved better. But she cowered in her isolation and did nothing to fix it.

_Every sin must be paid for eventually,_ Tony decided, lying in a cave, reeling from the latest round of torture. He thought about his mother. He contemplated the lessons he had learned the few times Maria dragged him to mass. The Bible had mentioned something about ‘the sins of the father’ or something. Not that Tony believed in God; he was a man of science. Not even he tried to deny the usefulness of religion in teaching ethics and morality, though.

So Tony Stark started his life anew. He began to think of himself as having a before and after version. This was the after-Afghanistan version. He was now Tony 2.0. New Tony made it his life’s mission to pay for his sins and the sins of his father, and he had a lot to pay for. That was what the other Avengers didn’t seem to grasp when they would berate him for neglecting himself.

"You need to stop this, Tony," Steve begged. He was ready to pull his hair out in frustration. They had been watching in silence for the last week while Tony ran himself into the ground. He never seemed to sleep, he spent any time when he wasn’t fighting as an Avenger either in the lab or at SI. None of them had seen him consume anything other than coffee in days.

Tony was standing in the kitchen, cornered by his friends. "Stop what," he croaked. He didn’t have time for this. He had work to do and for some reason, the Avengers were blocking his path.

Natasha was wary. In her experience, direct confrontation was not a very productive method with Tony. She raked her eyes down the genius’ form. He had dark bags under his eyes, his bones seemed a little too close to the skin, and he was actually trembling with manic energy. "Stop this sprint towards your own destruction," she said quietly. She couldn’t keep a hint of sadness out of her tone. Something was obviously eating at the man, fueling the erratic behaviour. The problem was he never talked to any of them about his thoughts.

Tony gaped at them, confused. He shook his head. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," he pushed through and gave them no choice but to part down the middle so he could reach the elevator. "I’m fine." They were always so dramatic. Natasha was usually the reasonable one. His destruction? Ridiculous.

"Tony!" Steve shouted after him desperately. Why wouldn’t the man ever just listen?

Tony spun on his heel. "_What_ ," he snarled. "I have things to do, Steve." He was trying to keep his cool, but this was stupid.

Tony’s outburst surprised him into speechlessness. He opened his mouth, closed it. "We’re just worried," he whispered. He had prepared a little speech for this, where were the words now?

"No one asked you to worry about me, Rogers,” and that hurt, they hadn’t called each other by last names since the Chitauri. "I’m a grown-ass adult. I didn’t need a mommy and daddy to take care of me when I was a kid and I don’t need one now!" Tony didn’t stay to hear if anyone would respond. Just because he wasn’t a supersoldier or a god didn’t mean he needed to be coddled."

He saw the bright red on the sharp edge of a metal sheet before he felt the sharp pain of his hand sliced open. He hissed at the stinging pain, running his hand under the sink so he could see how bad it was. It wasn’t too deep so it probably wouldn’t need stitches. He wrapped the nearest rag tight around his hand. This wouldn’t have happened if Tony hadn’t been distracted thinking about Steve’s hurt face staring at him upstairs. How the man who took down platoons of Nazis by himself without breaking a sweat could look like such a kicked puppy was beyond Tony.

"Goddamnit!" He punched the offending sheet of metal with his injured hand. The bruising pain released some of the tension thrumming through him. Staring at the dent he left, Tony decided it was time to take a break from this project. "JARVIS, pull up the schematics for that accelerated organ growing chamber, will you?" Tony settled into his rolling chair and immersed himself in the text on the screen beside his initial sketches. There were still a lot of kinks to figure out on this one.

Tony had a good feeling about his progress on the chamber a few hours later when he heard the door slide shut. He didn’t turn to look at the intruder as the footsteps approached his back. Tony knew Steve’s gait by now. "Tony, can we talk, please?"

Tony bit back an exasperated sigh. Something about Steve’s quiet request told him to be nice. He spun to face the blond, resigning himself to the fact that he’d probably have to finish this project tomorrow. "Look, Steve, I’m sorry I reacted like that," Tony started.

Steve held up a hand to stop him. He pulled the work bench over and sat down. "It’s fine. We shouldn’t have ambushed you like that. After you left, I thought about it, and I think I would’ve felt cornered and maybe a tad belittled." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "It’s just that you don’t seem to rest at all and I don’t know when the last time you had a real mean was and you…" Steve gestured at all of Tony as if it explained everything. "I’m worried."

"I’m really fine, Steve, I swear," Tony assured him. "I appreciate the concern, but you’re all being paranoid-"

"Tony," Steve cut him off. He pulled a mirror out of his pocket and shoved it in the other man’s face. "Look at yourself."

Tony wasn’t prepared for the stranger looking back at him. Did he really look like that? His skin had a sickly grey to it, and he looked like he might faint at any moment. Okay, maybe they had a point. "Oh," was all he managed.

Steve put the mirror back and their eyes met. He wondered when the last time Tony had looked in a mirror was. The brunette looked genuinely surprised at his haggard appearance. "Just, come eat dinner with us, please?"

The incessant anxiety nagged Tony in the back of his mind. It was the voice that always made sure he knew that he wasn’t doing enough. That he should be doing more. He resolutely ignored it as he gave Steve his best attempt at a smile. "Okay," he agreed softly. Steve looked so relieved that Tony felt a little terrible about the way he had shouted at the man this morning. He had let stress give him a short fuse. "Have JARVIS let me know when it’s ready in a couple hours?"

Steve winced and Tony didn’t understand. "Tony it’s eight at night."

Oops. Tony had thought is was only three or four in the afternoon. It was a little too easy to lose track of time down here. Maybe he should start having JARVIS remind him of the time every few hours. "Right, yeah, okay," he felt the blush creep across his face when Steve started laughing. Steve had a nice laugh. Tony should really try to make Steve laugh more.

Tony enjoyed eating with the team. He hadn’t realized he missed their family dinners. Clint and Thor were always up to hilarious antics. Tony gorged himself on the delicious food, though it didn’t take much. His stomach probably shrank again, which meant he had been accidentally starving himself again. Whoops. He watched Natasha throw soap foam all over Bruce while they did the dishes, enjoying the pure domestic joy he never thought he would get in life. How had Tony tricked these wonderful people into living with him? He didn’t deserve their love.

Tony stayed on the couch in the entertainment room as the group left for bed, one by one. Steve gave him a look that silently begged him to go to bed before heading off himself, leaving Tony alone. He knew that he really should get some sleep, he hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours in a row for weeks. The problem was that as soon as he tried to lay down, the silence of his room in the darkness would fill with the musings of his self loathing.

_You can really sleep at night knowing how many people you’ve killed? You’re lying there in your expensive silk sheets while orphans around the world sleep on the streets because you killed their parents. You don’t deserve to be lazy when you still have so many sins to pay for._ Yeah, no, Tony needed a drink if he was going to sleep. Good thing he had his own bar in the room.

Steve couldn’t sleep. He had this nagging feeling that he hadn’t done enough for Tony. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling. Tony was okay, he needed some space. Steve should let it alone. It wouldn’t hurt just to check on him. "JARVIS?"

"What can I do for you, Captain Rogers?"

"Is Tony in bed?" He asked. It wasn’t creepy to ask. He was just a concerned friend.

Steve was sure if JARVIS could sigh he would’ve. "Sir is currently emptying his minibar on the entertainment room," the AI answered drily.

Steve was going to stop second guessing himself. Every time he got that nagging feeling it turned out to be something. He found Tony sitting at a bar stool, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. It was half empty, and Steve really hoped it hadn’t started off full.

Tony turned to see Steve enter the room, swaying enough that Steve thought he’d fall off. Tony scowled when he saw who it was. "J, you traitor, you tattled, didn’t you?" his accusation was slurred. Steve hadn’t seen Tony get sloppy drunk in real life. He had seen the videos on the internet, sure, but those were from years ago. Steve sat down on the stool next to Tony. "Actually, I asked him where you were."

Tony furrowed his eyebrows. He took a swig from the bottle. "Why?"

Steve shrugged. "I was worried you hadn’t gone to bed. Looks like I was right."

"Why does it matter so much to you?" Tony finally asked. The question sounded like an accusation to Steve; like it shouldn’t matter.

"What do you mean why?" he asked incredulously. "Because you’re my friend. I care about you. And it seems like something is bothering you," he added quietly.

Tony stood, staggering over to the couch where he flopped down, bottle still in hand. He felt uncomfortable having Steve say such things and it made it a little easier if he didn’t have to look at the blond. Not sure himself why people showing they care makes him so uncomfortable, he didn’t voice it. Instead, he decided to actually admit to Steve that he was onto something. It was something he know he’d regret sober, but drunk Tony was more open. "I have so much to do and not enough time," he tried to explain. It wasn’t enough but he wasn’t sure how to order his swirling thoughts into sentences.

Steve sat on the arm of the couch. "What do you mean not enough time?" He asked cautiously. Tony kept everyone at arm’s length most of the time. He didn’t want to jinx this.

Tony frowned. How could he make it make sense to someone like Steve? Steve was so perfect, didn’t have sins to balance out. "I- um- well you know original sin?"

The question caught him off guard, "Sure, I was raised Irish Catholic. Why?"

"Howard did a lot of… no, I have enough… no…" Tony growled in frustration. He had never tried to voice these feelings out loud. "My mom made sure I knew that I’d have to pay for Howard’s sins as well as my own," he said flatly. "I inherited the sins of my father, though I don’t believe in God, but the point is someone has to pay for his mistakes as well as my own. God knows he never paid for them…"

Steve stared at Tony like he was seeing him for the first time. "You’re… trying to make up for sins…" he said slowly. Tony nodded, eyes closed. "I don’t think it works that way. Doing enough good doesn’t make the bad go away. We can’t escape our pasts, or balance them out or anything like that. We can only do our best to do the right thing in the present and future."

Tony sat up suddenly, and he looked like Steve had just told him everyone was dead. "If I can’t pay for them it means I can’t do anything to make it better!" He had tears spilling over.

Steve was making this worse. Why was he so bad at this? "Tony," he wasn’t sure what to say, only that he had to make Tony feel better. "I think we’re all ashamed of things we’ve done." Tony looked disbelieving, but he pressed on. "No, really. Everyone in this building has done some bad things that they would never do now but… Well our pasts and regrets make us who we are today. And Tony, who you are today is enough. You’re not responsible for Howard, that was his problem. And yeah, you’ve hurt people, and it’ll probably never stop bothering you, but that’s because you’re such a good person and you care so much about everyone. And well I," Steve blushed. "I wouldn’t have you any other way."

It felt a little like a confession of feelings deeper than friendship, but Steve hoped Tony didn’t focus on that. Steve was still trying to make sense of the tangle of feelings he got when he looked at the genius. He wasn’t ready to discuss them quite yet. Tony had stopped crying and was staring wide-eyed at Steve. "You don’t mean that," he whispered.

Steve smiled gently. "Yes I do."

Tony felt something swell inside, and he suddenly felt less sad and anxious. If he could be enough for someone like Steve Rogers, maybe that was good enough. Maybe he could just do his best. He’d have to think on it some more, but for tonight, this was enough.

Steve watched the feelings flit across Tony’s face in quick succession. Hope, tentative happiness, and contentedness. As soon as the tension had left the man’s body, he slumped backwards, fast asleep. Steve caught the bottle before it fell, and smiled at the sleeping form. He carefully scooped Tony up to take to bed. Steve had succeeded in washing away the imaginary stains of sin for tonight. That was enough for him.


	7. Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norman Osborne gets a hold of Tony and is determined to get the information he wants. He will not take no for an answer, and Tony would learn that the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure hurt/comfort with semi-graphic torture. Torturing Tony is a favourite pastime of mine, so this prompt I had to restrain myself from drawing it out forever. I promise it's only out of my vast love for Tony. Yes, it does suck to be loved by me. There's comfort in the end and a pinch of fluff with Steve. Love can mitigate any pain.

Tony was beginning to think October was actually cursed for him. He didn’t believe in things like curses and magic (more like he ignored their existence until Strange was shoving them in his face) but this was just getting to be insane. Something spectacularly bad had happened in Tony’s like every October for the past… 20 years!? Maybe he had personally insulted the spirit of Halloween or something.

Norman Osborn had become a consistent thorn in Tony’s side ever since SI’s departure from weapons development. While Hammer had always fancied himself Tony’s rival in weapons, Tony knew he had been no real competition. Osborn, in contrast, was actually competent and Oscorp had been unrivaled in chemical engineering until SI diversified. Between Reed Richards and Osborn, Tony had to actually try to continue SI’s success.

Luckily, Richards was ~~a friend~~ an ally. Norman was ruthless and had apparently, lost it. So here Tony was, contemplating the possibility of an October curse, strapped to a metal table with Osborn menacing above him. He had no idea where this room was in the world, but he doubted it was on Oscorp premises or he’d have been rescued by now. Norman had taken him right in front of the Avengers.

Clearly Norman had a hiding place that not even JARVIS knew about because if the stiffness in Tony’s muscles was anything to judge by, he had been unconscious for several hours. "Where are we?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Symkaria," he fluttered a hand as though swatting away an annoying fly. "Not that it matters, your friends can’t reach you here."

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat. If his memory served correctly, Symkaria was just northeast of Latveria, and a close ally to the country. Doctor Doom had sworn to protect the slightly smaller nation, and Avengers or SHIELD would certainly be considered enemy aircraft, shot down on sight. "I see," he drawled. "So we will have to entertain each other alone." Tony had a bad habit in antagonizing his captors. SHIELD had tried to teach him repeatedly how to undergo torture successfully, but their methods of merely repeating one’s name and identification code did not work for him. He only remained motivated to stay alive by maintaining his adversarial, sarcastic attitude. Otherwise he’d crumble.

Osborn rewarded him with a slow grin, all teeth. "Indeed we will." He left Tony’s field of vision for a moment, and it sounded like he rolled over a table and turned on some machinery. Norman’s face returned above him. "Let’s get to work, shall we?"

…

It turned out that Norman wanted Tony to tell him how to replicate his particle accelerator to create badassium. The patent company didn’t allow him to call the new element powering the reactor that, but Tony had the best lawyers. He hadn’t given up.

"How about you just give me the starting components, hmm?"

Tony smirked. "How about you just go fuck yourself, hmm?" Tony mocked in return. He screamed as Norman smashed the mallet into his other knee. A wave of nausea washed over him with the pulsing pain that remained. His legs were thoroughly destroyed at this point.

"Or maybe how many protons does it contain? What temperature is needed for the fusion?" Norman showed no reaction to Tony’s screams or whimpers, just continued to ask questions. Tony merely glared at the other man, clenching his jaw to keep from whimpering again. "Too slow," the shithead singsonged.

The pain ripped through him as something made contact with his side. Tony’s movements were outside of his control, his muscles twitching painfully before the current ceased. The haze of pain left him confused as to where he was for a moment. "Wha-?" he tried.

Whatever had shocked him was yanked out of his side, where Tony hadn’t realized it had been stabbed between some ribs. He gasped at the sharp feeling of the unknown tool being extricated. The air stung the wound, and Tony could feel the warmth of blood running down his side. His breathing was ragged. Maybe he wouldn’t live to see next October, he though distantly.

Norman wouldn’t let him escape that easily. He knew Tony could handle plenty more abuse before he had to worry about the man dying on him. He’d get his information. "Again, how do I create the element?"

"I thought you were the chemist," Tony ground out in response. God, he wished there was a rescue coming. He could only take so much of this. Besides the burns lining his arms and chest, the shattered bones throughout his legs, this newest addition to the list of injuries had been his least favourite thus far. Being electrocuted hurt a lot. The tension it left behind in one’s body might actually be worse than the ripples of current during.

His choked scream sounded like it was coming from someone else when Norman stabbed the weapon into his navel. It was certainly deeper inside of him this time, and his gut felt like a cold ache beneath the heat rippling through him. It felt like an eternity before he could breathe again, gasping and shaking miserably. His moan filled the room.

Norman made it a disappointed tsking noise. "You’re so stubborn," he commented casually. Tony still felt the cold ache originating from his center, and he couldn’t resist squirming. He almost wished for the sharp pain of an open wound instead. "I think you need to rethink your strategy here. You will give in eventually. I’ll leave you to consider your options alone for a bit."

Before the bastard left him, Tony felt a prick of a needle in his arm, and something injected into his system. Tony was alone. He could see the handle of whatever was sticking out of him if he lifted his head, but he was too tired to inspect it further. Whatever Osborn had injected felt like a vague acid-burn spreading through his veins. He took deep, shaking breaths, trying to ignore the terrible sensation, but by the time it reached his heart, he was sobbing. He was no longer Tony Stark; he was merely a pulsing mesh of different pain sensations. Nothing was worth this pain.

All sense of time was lost, Tony sobbing into the empty room. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He could handle most forms of torture, had far too much practice with it, but whatever this drug coursing through his veins was another level. Tony often felt separate from his body when things became overwhelming; he could dissociate and let the pain happen to someone else. This, though, came from inside him. His own blood had become the torture weapon used against him, so every beat of his heart the pain seem to start anew. There was an intricate web of heated barbed wire sawing outwards from his center.

Steve kicked down the door to the dungeon where Tony was being held. SHIELD had officially forbade the team from entering Symkaria, calling it a potential catalyst for war with Latveria. Unofficially, however, Fury had given them the go ahead. He knew the team would’ve gone anyway, so he used his connections to warn the proper authorities that they’d need to play diplomatic charades to work around the fiasco.

The others were wrapping up with Osborn and his henchmen. Steve made it to Tony’s side, panic only increasing at the sight before him. Tony’s eyes were wide and unseeing as he screamed in silence. His chest was heaving with ragged gasps. Steve ripped away the leather bounds tying him to the table. His body free, Tony writhed in obvious agony. Steve could see the bruises and swelling of broken bones, the seeping wound in his side, the mysterious capture still sticking out of the man, and the burns scattered across the olive skin, but not whatever invisible force seemed to be possessing Tony currently.

Tony heard his name being called, could see Steve’s facing above his own, but he felt trapped inside himself. Instead of floating above and looking down, Tony was sunken below, having to swim through thick, boiling oil to reach the surface again. "Steve," he gasped. It took everything in him to keep his eyes locked on the blue ones in front of him and stop writhing away from his gentle touch. "Syringe!" he managed on a strangled shout. Steve needed to know that he had been injected with something. There had to be a way to make it stop.

Steve let go of Tony’s shoulders, glancing around. A spent syringe lie on the metal tray a few feet away. He shoved it in his pocket before moving back to Tony’s side. He hoped it wasn’t poison. Tony had screwed his eyes shut and was whimpering brokenly between shallow gasps. Steve left the tool inside the genius, knowing it was helping staunch the blood flow, and scooped up Tony bridal style. The smaller man looked so fragile, clutching to Steve’s shirt with trembling hands. Steve was a lifeline.

…

Steve couldn’t believe what the doctors and Bruce were saying. "He just has to wait it out?" he echoed in horror.

Bruce was barely holding it together. Steve couldn’t blame the man as he stormed away, green tinged skin shimmering before Bruce dug his nails into his skin. Steve hoped he could keep away the Other Guy for now. "The last of the drug’s effects should wear off in a couple hours, but we can’t sedate him," the doctor continued sadly. "Any anesthetics we have would react with it, killing him."

Steve felt sick. Tony had to continue to endure this agony for hours. Steve returned the hospital room where the center of his universe was squirming in bed. Tony watched him sit down beside the bed, dried trails of salt on his cheeks where he had been crying. Steve didn’t know what to do. How could he help? He wished fervently that he could switch places with the genius.

Tony, ever the saint, threw Steve a shaky smile. The pain of the chemical torture was more bearable now, merely a shadow of the agony he was in when Steve had found him. He reached out for Steve’s hand, squeezing hard when Steve held it. "It’ll be fine," he rasped. Steve needed to lose that panicky look he had. Tony was starting to think Steve would have a heart attack in his thirties of he kept up this level of stress every time Tony got hurt. "I promise, Steve." The attempt to comfort the supersoldier was slightly undermined by the fresh wave of pain that washed over him, making him arch his back with a surprised gasp before collapsing onto the bed again.

Tony squeezed his hand painfully with the sudden show of pain. Steve couldn’t help the distressed sob that escaped him. Tony was comforting him when Tony was the one suffering. Steve brushed the sweat soaked hair away from Tony’s forehead. "Oh Tony," he said softly. "I’m so sorry."

Tony caught his breath again before he met Steve’s gaze again. "I’m not," he responded, sporting his best Tony Stark smirk. He lifted Steve’s hand to his lips, pressing a shaky kiss to his knuckles. "I know you’ll get me through this," he murmured confidently. Steve was always enough for him, no matter the situation. "Just stay with me."

Steve returned a watery smile. "Always, my love."


	8. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Wanda’s defense, she hadn’t meant it to be a spell.
> 
> "_SILENCE!_" she yelled into the chaos. The previous mix of yells, screams, crashes, laughter, and pounding music of Tony’s Halloween party was replaced by a deafening silence. Wanda dropped the hands that she had been digging into her eyes and looked around the room. Everyone gaped at her, words caught in their throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist the excuse to talk about Clint's deafness, which I still wish was in the MCU, I'll admit. I tried to mimic the grammar rules of ASL when they use it here, but I'll admit my ASL is limited to only what I need for talking to my autistic brother. I apologize for any inaccuracies or mis-portrayals, and I make ZERO claim to understanding the deaf community or what deafness is like. I try to do justice, and if I offended anyone, please let me know. 
> 
> warnings for discussion of hearing-loss

In Wanda’s defense, she hadn’t meant it to be a spell.

"_SILENCE!_" she yelled into the chaos. The previous mix of yells, screams, crashes, laughter, and pounding music of Tony’s Halloween party was replaced by a deafening silence. Wanda dropped the hands that she had been digging into her eyes and looked around the room. Everyone gaped at her, words caught in their throat. She was usually such a quiet spectator at their get togethers, that her outburst was a shock to even JARVIS, apparently.

At least, that was why she assumed no one spoke, as some of them even moved their mouths to speak, but remained speechless. The overwhelming migraine was finally bearable in the new quiet. With the pain subsiding, Wanda was overcome by sudden embarrassment. She had ruined everyone’s fun. Tears blurred her vision and her face was hot. "I’m sorry," she whispered to the room before turning and fleeing. She normally prided herself on her self-control; she never lost her temper. Knowing it was too dangerous for someone with reality warping chaos magic like her own to lose control of their emotions, she spent years mastering meditation and emotional control.

The problem was that lately she had been opening up. It was easy to control oneself when you remained mostly isolated and only showed your surface emotions. Other than with Pietro, Wanda had successfully remained emotionally distant from the world for the last several years. That was until Vision. He had wormed his way into her heart when she wasn’t looking, and now she felt volatile. She had never known love like this, and with it her walls came crumbling down all together. Suddenly she was an open book around all of the Avengers, laughing and crying with the smallest provocation. Vision had convinced her to let down her guard a little, that she could feel without destroying, but she had no practice with happy mediums.

So the sudden increase in drama in her life left her feeling raw. She felt like the wrong gentle breeze would set her off, and it kept her awake at night with worry, which had probably been the cause of her current migraine. She should’ve followed her gut tonight and begged out of the party invitation. Wanda knew she wasn’t feeling well this morning, and when Vision had had to go off on a mission and cancelled on the date, she should’ve cancelled on Tony. She had tried, she really had. But she had a soft spot for his big brown eyes.

"Oh please, please please, Wanda!" Tony begged that morning. "Steve will have my throat if you’re not there, he thinks I only invited you because of Vision. Which is categorically untrue, mind you," he began his usual rambling. "I happen to like your company even if you are a bit of a wallflower, and your magic," he shuddered involuntarily, "gives me the heebie-jeebies. I’m working on that, too, by the way. I’m trying to stop being uncomfortable around you and Strange, it’s just hard, what with the laws of physics that should govern existence going out the window and my own understanding of things being ripped out from under me every time one of you does something…" he trailed off. "But! I want you there, the team loves you, especially Nat. She thinks your wit is a perfect ‘break from the boy’s club’ I think she called it."

Tony’s voice was beginning to grate on her ears. Wanda rubbed her temple, holding a hand up. "Okay!" she stopped him. "Okay, I’ll come, Tony." She gave him a small smile, trying to soften the harsh tone to her words. It was hardly the genius’ fault she had a headache. "Just, let me get some sleep, please. I have a migraine."

Tony had the decency to look a little ashamed. "Right, yeah, sorry I know I can be loud and too verbose. I’ll just…" He pointed towards the door. "Be going. Feel better, um," he rubbed the back of his head. "You don’t have to come if you’re still feeling bad," he admitted. "Just… I would like you there if you’re up to it," he finished awkwardly. And there they were. His big, brown, puppy-dog eyes. Wanda agreed with Steve that while everyone thought he was the one who had mastered looking like a puppy when he wanted something, it was really Tony who’s big eyes and wobbly lip could get him anything. The man was just adorable.

So Wanda had tried to ignore the headache, which did feel somewhat better after a nap. The tower had been too much, though. There were loud noises everywhere, and strobe lights in some rooms, and fog machines blasting. With no Vision there to calm her down when things felt like too much, it had been a perfect storm to her raw nerves. Wanda flopped onto her bed with a loud sigh. She hoped they’d all forgive her later. She closed her eyes, and drifted off to sweet, sweet silence. Tomorrow she’d apologize.

…

Everyone watched the Scarlet Witch leave in a flurry of tears. Tony felt a wave of guilt for pressuring her to come earlier. He had just wanted them all to have fun, and she had seemed so stressed lately, he thought it would cheer her up. It apparently had the opposite effect. "JARVIS, bring back the music," Tony muttered into the silence Wanda had left behind. The rest of his friends could still have fun, even if he had to go fix his mistake.

At least, Tony tried to say that, but nothing broke the silence. Tony tried again, but his voice was gone completely. His lips moved uselessly. Now that he thought about it, no one had spoken since Wanda’s shout. He looked around in confusion, meeting fearful gazes from his party guests. The only one who seemed unconcerned was Clint. In fact, he looked confusedly at the distressed expressions surrounding him. "What’s wrong?" Tony read his lips.

"I’m not sure," he tried, before grabbing his throat in frustration. Tony jerked in surprise when he saw Thor’s sudden movement in his periphery. The god threw a glass at the ground, where it shattered at Tony’s feet. Only, there was no sound to the shatter. It at least verified that something more than Tony’s voice being gone was going on. Had Tony suddenly gone deaf?

Clint watched the glass shattered, and noticed what was happening immediately. Waving his hands around wildly until everyone was looking at him, he addressed the room. ROOM SILENT, CORRECT? He signed, mouthing ‘Am I right in assuming you all hear silence?’ Clint had opted out of his hearing aids for the day, so he hadn’t noticed the unnatural quiet. When everyone looked so concerned and lacked a reaction to the shattered glass, he thought about Wanda’s shout. She must’ve mistakenly cast a spell on everyone there. Chaos magic had been known to do stranger. When everyone nodded in response he continued. W-A-N-D-A CAST SPELL US ACCIDENT, he gestured from the elevator to the group of people. ‘Wanda cast a spell on us. Presumably, by accident.’

Steve agreed. It was the simplest explanation to the sudden deafness they were all experience. He wondered idly how long they all might have spent trying to figure it out if Clint hadn’t been there. Steve wouldn’t even know sign language if he hadn’t learned it for Clint. Clint had laughed at them all when he walked in on JARVIS’ lessons, telling them it was silly. He could read lips well enough, plus when he wore Stark’s improved hearing aid designs, he could hear nearly as well as he used to. Tony had waved Clint away, annoyed. "Just let us try to do something nice, birdbrain!"

Steve smiled at the memory. Well, this debacle could be a good thing, he decided. They could go to Wanda right now and get her to fix it, but Steve had a much better idea. L-E-T-S-W-A-I-T-U-N-T-I-L-M-O-N-D-A-Y-T-O-T-E-L-L-W-A-N-D-A. Steve still hadn’t mastered signing beyond finger spelling.

Tony rolled his eyes. He made a few hand motions that made a large holographic screen show up and a keyboard at his hands. **Steve, it’s Friday, that’s ridiculous.** They watched the words appear on the screen. Tony made another motion and pointed to each of them in the room, making keyboards for each of them.

**When did you make hand-signal commands for JARVIS?** \- Bruce typed. His name usefully appeared with a colon before the sentence on the screen. Why had Tony even created this in-person chatroom type thing in the first place?

Tony made a face. **It doesn’t matter. Steve, I’m going to fly to Wanda and Vision’s place if you don’t give me a good reason not to in the next five minutes.**

Steve:

**Okay, hear me out. And Clint, tell me if I’m being offensive.**

Clint just laughed silently, signing I NOT EASY OFFEND.

Steve looked back to his keyboard. **I thought this could be a team building exercise. We could spend the weekend experiencing what deafness is like.**

Tony shook his head hurriedly when he saw that the others actually seemed to be contemplating the stupid idea. **What, and just hope the Avengers aren’t needed!? Ridiculous**

Agent Boring: **What, can’t handle a little hurdle like designing a new comm system for this?** Coulson smirked, then frowned when he saw his ‘name’ on the screen.

Tony squinted at the man. **Oh, you’re all on.** Tony made a swiping motion through the air, and all of the interactive holograms disappeared. Tony walked over to stand face to face to Steve. BUT YOU BEST BE READY FOR REAL DEAF EXPERIENCE, he signed. NO TECH HELP UNLESS EMERGENCY. Tony looked far too smug, probably thinking about Steve’s finger-spelling earlier. Only Tony would somehow take a good idea and make it a personal challenge. Steve scowled after him as he left for his lab. PARTY OVER? Thor signed to whoever was looking.

Clint shrugged. DON’T SEE WHY WE CAN’T KEEP GOING, he grinned, dragging Coulson onto their makeshift dance floor. Clint signed towards the ceiling to turn the music back on. Coulson took his partner’s lead, dancing to the vibrations they could feel despite the silence. The party continued a bit awkwardly after that, everyone unsure of how the weekend would go. Bruce felt a little annoyed that Steve and Tony seemed to make a unilateral decision without anyone else’s input, but who was he to talk? They were the team leaders.

…

Most of them hadn’t slept well, and Tony not at all. Steve had never realized how much he likes the white noise of the tower when he was going to bed. It had already been difficult at first to adjust to falling asleep in the tower. Steve had still felt used to his tiny brooklyn apartment where he heard all the noise of New York through his thin walls. Stark tower had seemed deafeningly quiet in comparison. Turns out Steve didn’t know quiet at all until now.

Clint waltzed into the kitchen cheerfully. He poured himself a mug of coffee while he took in Steve, Natasha, and Bruce who were already seated there. He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. Their tired looks reminded him of when he had first lost his hearing. People didn’t realize that they actually liked some level of noise. True silence could be disconcerting when you weren’t used to it. He had been entirely unable to sleep without his hearing aids in the first night, which his doctor had expressly advised against.

TROUBLE SLEEPING? He signed at them.

Natasha flipped him off while Steve only nodded. Bruce hadn’t seen Clint sign, so he looked back and forth confused by Natasha and Steve’s responses. I MISS SOMETHING? He asked.

Clint made sure the scientist was looking at him this time. I ASK SUPPOSE/WHAT IF YOU HAD TROUBLE SLEEPING?

Bruce had to think through JARVIS’ lessons for a moment to understand what Clint was saying. He remembered that there was one sign that meant either ‘suppose’ or ‘what if’ depending on the context. There were actually a lot of signs that had multiple meanings. There had been a whole lesson on just those signs. Bruce signed YES in response to the question.

T-H-O-R ASLEEP? Steve asked.

Everyone shrugged. Normally JARVIS would’ve answered, but Tony had probably forbidden him from using text to speak to them. Speak of the devil, Tony entered the room ignoring all of them. He went straight to the coffee pot, drained it, then started another. While it was brewing, he turned to face the abnormally crowded kitchen.

No one spoke, and the silence felt suffocating to Steve. He had never noticed how much noise there usually was even when people weren’t talking. He should be hearing the stream of coffee brewing, the breathing sounds of his teammates, the light banter between Natasha and Clint that usually formed, the clinking of mugs being set back down on the counter… Steve was going to have a newfound gratefulness for the tiny sounds when this little exercise was over.

YOU WANT PLAY FIGHT? Steve asked Natasha. He didn’t know if there was a sign for sparring, but he mouthed the words ‘Do you want to spar today?’ He was determined to try out as many of their usual activities as possible while trapped in the silence.

YES, she signed. NOW.

Tony watched them go, walking over to sit next to Bruce. He placed a hand on his best bud’s shoulder, and Bruce nearly fell out of his seat in surprise. He had been staring at the tea in his hands, and hadn’t seen Tony approach. Not hearing things was hard.

‘Sorry,’ Tony formed the word with his lips. Bruce could almost pretend he could hear a voice to accompany the movement, and it made him feel a little better. Tony smiled when some of the clear tension left his friend’s shoulders. Maybe Bruce was more comfortable lip-reading than signing. ‘Want to join me in the lab? I’ll show you my prototype comms.’

Bruce smiled back at Tony. ‘Sure, let’s go.’

Clint watched his teammates all interacting differently with a warm fondness. It was actually kind of a fun idea, and Clint was happy Steve had thought of it. Not that Clint wished deafness on anyone, although he knew plenty of the community preferred it over hearing, but it was kind of nice to see his friends take a walk in the life of perpetual silence. Sure, Clint was only 80% deaf according to his ENT, but those first few weeks after the fight with Crossfire that had damaged his eardrums, he had heard nothing. Phil came into the kitchen to find his partner smiling to himself around a cup of coffee. Phil hugged the archer, letting Clint tip some of his coffee into Phil’s mouth. He watched Clint carefully, trying to read what the man was thinking about, before he snagged a kiss and pulled away. He began making their usual breakfast. Clint and Phil had found their preferred combination of breakfast foods years ago while stuck in a safehouse together for months, and the two had an unspoken agreement to alternate days making breakfast. Natasha said that the breakfast thing was when they started officially dating, though Clint hadn’t confessed his feelings until three months after that mission.

‘Enjoying the Cap’s little experiment?’ Phil asked wryly. He knew Clint probably found this all immensely amusing.

Clint grinned. Phil always saw through him. ‘I’m more excited to see Tony’s idea for comms. Could be useful for covert missions. But yeah, I may be enjoying their awkwardness just a bit,’ Clint admitted. Hearing people often thought they could imagine life in silence, but they were usually pretty far off. There was just things one never thought about when they didn’t have to. Like he was fairly certain Thor was probably going to sleep well into the day, because the god had probably not thought about his alarm not working. Thor was always a deep sleeper, and depended on the loud blaring to get him up at a reasonable hour.

Phil chuckled knowingly. MORE THAN LITTLE, he signed as they sat to their breakfast.

…

Steve and Natasha were learning a lot. Neither of them had ever noticed that they used their hearing so much to avoid attacks. Both were dodging far less than usual, and it only validated to Steve that this was a good idea. Natasha caught his eye when Steve smiled proudly to himself. ‘Happy with yourself?’ she mouthed, one eyebrow quirked.

Steve nodded, throwing out another jab. ‘I’m learning new things,’ he replied.

Natasha got an opening and flipped Steve onto the mat. WHO PAST-KNOW W-A-N-D-A CHAOS MAGIC ACCIDENTS USEFUL SOMETIMES? She signed.

Steve was happy Natasha could see the merit in the weekend of silence he had thrust upon the team. EXACTLY. Steve stretched, done sparring for the day. He was curious to see how Tony was doing, since the man was easily the loudest personality he knew.

Steve entered his keycode to the lab, seeing Tony immediately. Tony was facing away from the door. Not wanting to startle the genius and get a repulsor blast to the face, he took his phone and flashed his flashlight until Tony noticed.

Tony turned to see the source of light, and was happy to see Steve standing their. He recognized the flashlight for the makeshift warning system it was. THANKS, he signed, ‘for not sneaking up on me.’ He motioned for Steve to come see what he was doing.

Steve walked over to the work table, looking over the engineer’s shoulder. A couple comm units with some weird extension was sitting on the table, black outer shell still removed so the inner workings were visible. It could have been anything as far as Steve could tell, but he was sure it was probably brilliant. Tony screwed the casings back onto the pieces, and handed one to Steve. His facial expression was adorably eager.

‘Like this,’ he mouthed, placing the familiar part of the comm in his ear as usual. Steve could see where the extension went now, and followed Tony’s lead. The comm had an arm that ran around the ear and stopped at the temple, where it was attached to a little white rectangle piece that hung in front of the eyebrow. Tony turned away so Steve was facing the comm unit in his friend’s ear, before making an exaggerated movement to press a small button on the temple. A small screen appeared in front of Tony’s eye, and it reminded Steve vaguely of google glasses.

Steve tried the same, and when Tony mouthed another phrase, instead of Steve needing to read his lips, the words appeared before his eye. The screen was only holographic, and he could still see the outside world beyond the glowing blue words. _What do you think?_ It said.

Steve was blown away. He spun slowly, making sure he could still see the rest of the lab as well as the glowing words. _It’s brilliant, Tony._ He felt himself speak the words, but there was still no sound. His own words appeared before him in a different font, and it was so perfect. This had so many applications in the field!

Tony removed his comm and Steve’s, beaming at the blond. THANKS, I TRY. he signed proudly.

YOU SUCCEED, Steve responded happily. OTHERS WILL LOVE IT.

Tony nodded in agreement, before signing something to JARVIS. Steve didn’t recognize any of the signs, but he supposed he had never learned any technical terms in sign language because he had no need for them. It wasn’t so different from the usual not being able to understand half of what Tony said. It came with the territory of loving a genius.

JARVIS manufactured the rest of the comms in no time, and Tony brought them to the table at dinner. After being showered in praise, he took them back and put them in a labeled suitcase, explaining that they’d be kept in his lab for missions when they’d be appropriate. Clint met Steve’s eyes. ‘Thank you for this,’ he mouthed across the room. Steve felt himself blush, but he was glad Clint liked their weekend. Silence wasn’t so bad, though he could admit he was impatient for Monday.


	9. Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki doesn't take it well when Tony decides not to play along with their usual fun. Somehow that translates to Steve and Tony stranded in unfamiliar woods with no working tech.
> 
> At least camping is fun, and Steve has a good singing voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good old lost in the woods trope here. And since it's me writing, someone will get hurt but everyone's okay in the end.   
> You can listen to the song Steve sings [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UuQXt48Wcsg)
> 
> It's a song I learned for Columbus Children's Choir ages ago because we were going on tour in Hungary. We learned an English translation as well as the Hungarian, but it's near impossible to find the translation recorded. It's just stuck with me all these years, and it really is a Hungarian folk song, like Steve says.

Steve could hear the asshole’s laughter from the other side of the portal as it shut behind them. Loki had been up to mischief as usual, but when Iron Man ended the battle too quickly for his liking, he got angry.

Loki causing magical chaos in New York was a pretty typical occurrence nowadays. Thor said it’s because he gets bored in Asgard and thinks humans are entertaining. The Avengers were used to it by now. Usually Loki would show up, scare some people, give the Avengers a run for their money, then leave with a happy goodbye before he could be captured. He rarely even caused injuries anymore, so Steve thought of it as harmless fun that helped the team train.

No one had warned Loki not to try anything in October, apparently. Tony spent every October in a month-long manic episode working non-stop. The genius did not react well to distractions from his work. Steve thought it was a bit much. Tony was probably exaggerating when he explained how many new inventions the board demanded of him every November.

So Iron Man had showed up to the battle ready to leave, and he went in hard. Loki’s magical birds that were harassing citizens and stealing food were felled in ten seconds flat when Iron Man shot small bullets at them all simultaneously. Loki’s grin had quickly morphed into a snarl, "In a hurry Iron Man?"

Tony didn’t even throw out a witty comment. "I’ve got shit to do." The armour removed any inflection from the words, but Steve was sure they were irritated.

Loki didn’t find the answer satisfactory. "Oh no, the great Mr. Stark has such a hard life," Loki mocked. When Tony made no indication that he’d return the banter, the god lifted his scepter threateningly. "Let’s see how important you think you are without your precious technology."

The portal appeared just beside the armour, sucking Iron Man in. Steve jumped to grab the boot closest to him without thinking. His instinct was just to grab on and pull back. Instead of helping in anyway whatsoever, Steve just ended up falling through the hole as well just before it closed up around Loki’s cackling. Luckily for them, the other side of the portal was only a couple feet off the ground, so they only tumbled into a tree rather than fell from the sky.

Steve sat up with a sigh, taking in the new surroundings. Tony’s suit had stopped working as soon as it passed through the portal, so he was peeling off the useless metal in pieces. They were sitting in a thick forest. Steve could see nothing but trees in every direction, and didn’t even hear running water. He pulled out his cell phone and found that it, too, had become a useless brick. Apparently Loki’s portal ruined electronics. At least Tony’s arc reactor seemed unaffected.

"Goddamnit, that mother-fucking, piece of shit asshole!" Tony threw the last piece of armour at the nearest tree trunk to emphasize the last word. "I’m going to rip his tongue out and take everyone of his stupid capes and tear them to shreds and melt his crown and-"

"How about we just get home first, Tony." Steve had no idea where in the world they were, or if they were even on their planet.

Tony looked at him petulantly for a moment, contemplating continuing his list of ways to sabotage Loki anyway. Steve just raised an eyebrow at the man, knowing what he was probably thinking. Tony huffed, giving up. "Fine," he most certainly did not whine, "we’ll do it your way." Tony stood, examining their surroundings closely. "Well, it’s not tropical, and I see no pine trees, so that narrows it down a little."

"I could climb a tree and see if there’s a clearing in sight?" Steve suggested.

Tony shrugged. "Sure, I’ll stand guard down here," his voice dry. Right, the man didn’t have a weapon. Steve handed him the handgun strapped to his leg. He had the shield anyway, and rarely used guns.

When he made it to the top, he craned his neck, trying to see as far as possible in all directions. The position was awkward because he had to hold onto a branch with one hand for balance, unable to just stand up straight on a branch. There were woods in every direction into the horizon. He could make our the winding opening in the canopy of leaves that must be a river. They could follow the river and hope for the best. There was usually civilization near rivers. He wondered what country they might be in. Not a lot of places were left in the world with forests this large.

"So, what’s the plan Captain?" While Steve had been climbing, Tony had managed to make a sack of sorts out of the sleeves of his undersuit that he cut off. Steve could see the pieces of the armor sticking out on all sides. It hung down Tony’s back, with it tied to fit like a sash in front of him, and it had to be heavy.

"Do you have to bring the suit?" Steve asked, already knowing the answer but trying anyway. They couldn’t risk a passerby getting their hands on the tech. When Tony didn’t deign to answer the question, he moved on. "I don’t see an end to the woods anywhere, but I can lead us to what I think is a river."

"Sounds like as much as a plan as we’ll get, then," Tony sighed. They began trudging through the woods, the pieces of the suits clanking with each step. The temperature was mild enough, but the air was humid and Tony’s arms were being eaten alive by mosquitos. If only he hadn’t needed the sleeves to carry the stupid suit. Steve guessed it took them about three hours to reach the riverbed. He kneeled to drink some water. The daylight was waning, and they needed to find somewhere to camp out for the night.

Tony was thinking the same thing, and he spotted the perfect solution. "Hey look!" He pointed. Steve followed the line of sight before he spotted the small cave opening in a cliffside nearby. Steve hadn’t noticed that the land had such sharp rises in elevation from the treetops, the leaves had just sort of blurred together so everything looked pretty level. Their path to the river had been at a slight decline, and Steve guessed that if they had been just a bit further east they would have ended up climbing a hill to a dead end.

"Let’s just hope it doesn’t already have a resident," Steve said. He followed Tony as the shorter man took off at a jog towards the cave. He probably was anxious to rest, Steve realized. It was easy to forget that not everyone had supersoldier stamina, and Tony was walking with a lot of extra weight and probably hadn’t slept much lately. Maybe tomorrow he’d be able to convince Tony to let him carry the suit, though he doubted Tony would acquiesce.

Tony reached the cave opening first, peering inside. It was too dark to see much, so he cupped his hands to his mouth. "Hello!" He shouted. Some birds nearby fluttered away in surprise. Tony could hear his voice echo back to him, but there were no growls or anything, so he took that as a win. He shared a look with Steve before Steve pulled out a lighter and they ventured in.

The cave was not big. The two of them could lay curled up, but there would only be room for a small fire as well as their bodies. Tony threw his pack to the ground and watched the armour tumble out with a loud clamour. "Home sweet home," he muttered.

Steve was still inspecting the cave, looking for any signs that a predator was using it as a den at night. He didn’t see anything, and they needed to get some firewood while there was still some light out if they didn’t want to spend the night in total darkness. "Will you stay and guard the opening while I gather some wood? I don’t want another animal to steal our idea."

Tony quirked his mouth sideways, unhappy. "We shouldn’t separate." He seemed to mull their options over for a moment before shaking his head dejectedly. "Fine, but you better stay within earshot."

Steve saluted the genius. "Sir, yes sir!" He considered it a win when Tony laughed. Sure, the situation kind of sucked, but they may as well enjoy themselves while they were stuck here. If anything, being forced to camp in the woods and be away from the stress of SI could be good for Tony.

By the time night had fallen, they had a nice fire going that made their cave feel cozy. Steve had a couple of meal replacement bars in his many pockets, so they didn’t have to hunt tonight. They agreed to eat only half of their bars, in case finding food tomorrow was harder than they expected. Both of the heroes were generally unworried. Despite Loki’s sureness that Tony would feel useless without tech or something, and the quite common assumption that he didn’t know how to rough it, Tony could handle the great outdoors just as well as anyone else. The only real threat other than bears or boars was boredom. Tony was used to having a computer available every waking moment, so he never needed to waste time without mental stimulation.

Tony took first watch for the night, making himself comfortable in the mouth of their cave. It had been their only disagreement so far in the adventure. Steve tried to cite the serum and saying he didn’t need as much sleep. "Steve, don’t be stupid. We can both sleep, plus I’m still too amped up to sleep." When Steve had looked at him skeptically, Tony threw a pebble at him. "I have insomnia, okay!?"

Steve threw a pebble back, laughing. "Fine, fine, I’ll sleep first, but only under one condition."

"Oh?" Tony crossed his arms, fighting off a smile.

"I get to pay for our next date," he said smugly.

Tony rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss the supersoldier before walking towards the mouth of the cave. "Why are you like this?" he laughed through the question. "I’m literally rich. I should always pay."

Steve settled onto the ground, smiling at nothing in particular. "I like watching servers’ reactions when the great Tony Stark isn’t the one paying." He could hear Tony’s huff of laughter. Loki’s plan had certainly backfired. Tony was more relaxed and happy than Steve had seen him in weeks. Maybe he should coordinate for Loki to always do this in October, but act like it was villainy. Not that Tony would fall for it.

Tony doodled in the dust while Steve slept. He wished he had something to work on here. If it took longer than tomorrow to make it to civilization, he might just lose it. Tony was trying to push away the constant anxiety that he should be working, since of course it couldn’t be helped, but it was hard. Steve was probably the only thing that was keeping him grounded. The man was making an obvious effort to make Tony laugh whenever possible. Tony could appreciate the gesture, but he did really need to get home. Tony tossed and turned, unable to sleep despite his body’s exhaustion. "Steve," he whispered.

"Tony? You’re still up?"

Tony didn’t want to ask. He was embarrassed, but the tired homesick side of him won out. "Remember that time I had the flu and was delirious from a fever?"

"Yeah… why?"

"Can you sing that song to me again?" His voice sounded small. He was glad the fire had died down enough that Steve probably couldn’t see him blushing. Steve chuckled. "I honestly didn’t think you remembered that. But sure."

Tony met his eyes in the dim light. "Thanks," he whispered.

Steve felt butterflies in his stomach. It was a feeling he thought would fade with time, but dating Tony felt permanently like being a love-struck teen. He didn’t need to sing above a soft rumble, the small cave’s acoustics making everything louder.

> _Whispering breezes gently are blowing._  
>  Still in the night the fire light is glowing.  
> Feed the fire, my friend and brother.  
> Shall we ever see another. 

Tony drifted off to the amber honey tones of Steve’s singing. Maybe there were some upsides to camping, not that he’d admit it out loud.

Tony did not wake up to the gentle sound of Steve like he had hoped, but instead his left arm was itching. Stupid bugs. Tony slapped at his arm without opening his eyes. Maybe he could fall back asleep. "Ow!" He sat up, startled.

Steve startled as well. "What’s wrong?"

Tony pulled his hand away from his arm and investigated in the dawn light shining into the cave. He could see two smears on his hand that had clearly been spiders, and they had both bitten him before they died. "Stupid spiders, yuck!" He wiped his hand off on the ground beneath him.

Steve ventured further into the cave, sitting beside Tony. "Do you think they were venomous?" He bit his lip with worry.

Tony shrugged. "No clue. It only hurt for a second, though, and there’s not that many deadly spiders to adult humans. Probability is on our side."

Steve didn’t look convinced. "Okay, I guess. Tell me if they get worse, though."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Okay mom," he said sarcastically. There was no malice behind it, and he placed a kiss on Steve’s nose to make it obvious. "You have quite a voice for lullabies, by the way."

Tony was so thankful that the cave was facing the rising sun so he could fully appreciate the blush that coloured Steve’s cheeks. "It’s, uh, thanks. It’s a Hungarian folk song, actually. I learned it abroad during the war from a jewish family fleeing their home. We ended up sharing camp with them one night, and traded songs around the fire. It wasn’t until I woke up in this century with the internet that I knew what any of it meant and found a translation," he smiled sadly, a distant look in his eyes. Tony watched him with baited breath. Steve sometimes reminisced about WWII when he was feeling particularly vulnerable and loved.

When Steve didn’t continue, he asked "You still remembered it well enough to look it up?"

Steve’s smile turned more bittersweet than nostalgic. "Eidetic memory from the serum," he pointed to his temple. "Though I know that’s technically only for images but I pretty much remember everything like a recording."

Tony pulled the man into a hug. That was news to him. He didn’t need to be told the underlying statement there. Steve remembered every horrific memory perfectly, too. Tony couldn’t imagine remembering every liberated holocaust camp Steve must’ve seen. He stood and held his hand out to Steve. It was time to get on their way. Steve didn’t need any more reminiscing right now, and Tony had work to do.

It was two hours into their hike that Steve began to notice Tony’s discomfort. He kept adjusting the weight of his sack, grimacing when nothing seemed to help. "Do you want me to carry the suit for a bit?"

Tony scrunched up his face in irritation. It was a testament to how uncomfortable he must be that he didn’t fight it. Tony would normally run himself into the ground before letting people help him; it drove Steve insane. "Actually, yeah. I think I slept on my shoulder wrong." He rubbed the offending shoulder as he stretched it. Steve was grateful that the makeshift knapsack fit around him, though it was tight. He had a broader chest than Tony. Tony looked up at the tree above him thoughtfully. "I think I’m gonna check the view again. Maybe we can see civilization now."

"I can do it," Steve tried, but Tony shook his head. "But your shoulder…"

"It’s just a little sore, I’ll be back in a minute." Tony made his way up the tree, admittedly a little slower than Steve would’ve, but the burn in his muscles felt good. When he looked ahead, following the river from the new view, a slow smile crept across his face. They could definitely reach that city by nightfall. There’d be phones. They could be home tonight!

In his excitement, Tony climbed down faster than he should’ve. He didn’t slip, he was a graceful athlete thank you very much, but the nice exercise burn had turned into a throbbing ache in his one arm, and he was sweating by the time he reached Steve. "I saw it, babe! We can reach a city tonight!" They threw their arms around each other in excitement. This adventure hadn’t even gone as badly as their usual.

Even without the weight of the suit, Steve watched Tony become drenched in sweat over the next hour. He was rubbing at his left arm and shoulder every few steps, too. "Tony, are you okay? Is it the bites?"

Tony turned to face him and he looked kind of pale. "Actually I’m not great, it might be the bites." He moaned, then suddenly turned away to vomit on the forest floor. Tony put his hand out to steady himself against a tree. His whole upper body was achy, he felt hot and sweaty, his head hurt, and he was kind of dizzy. He hadn’t wanted to say anything, because they couldn’t slow their pace if they wanted to reach the city tonight.

Steve placed the back of his hand to Tony’s forehead. "Maybe we should take a break," Steve prodded gently. "You feel feverish."

Tony shook his head. "We can’t" he groaned. "If it is something to worry about, we definitely need to get somewhere with antivenom." He heaved again, but there wasn’t much in his stomach anyway. He wiped his mouth and stood, squaring his shoulders. "C’mon Steve."

Steve had no choice but to follow. He wanted to argue, wanted to comfort Tony and magically wish away the symptoms, but Tony was right. There were two options. Either this was the worst of it and Tony would get better, or it was going to get worse and the city was their only hope. He watched Tony carefully, for any sign of stumbling. Tony didn’t let them stop for a meal, so Steve ate the rest of his bar while Tony merely drank some river water.

His nausea subsided as they walked, but the rest of Tony’s symptoms only got worse. He felt weak and shaky. It was fortunate that Steve could easily carry his shield and the suit, because there’s no way Tony would be able to carry anything like this. It took enough effort just to keep placing one foot in front of the other. Tony had survived much worse than spiders. He could do this.

Steve didn’t catch him in time when Tony crumpled to the ground. "Tony!"

Tony groaned, looking up at the blond miserably. His breathing was shallow and his eyes glassy. "Steve, it’s too much. I feel like I can’t get in a good breath and everything hurts." Tony gasped as his left arm spasmed painfully.

Steve scooped up Tony. This wasn’t the first time he thanked God Tony was small. Even with the serum, carrying all of this was work. "Just stay with me, honey, we’re almost there." He felt Tony nod into his stomach. His labored breathing set Steve on edge. What was he going to do if the man stopped breathing altogether? All of this was from a couple of spiders. Knowing Tony’s luck in particular, Steve would bet money that the effects of whatever venom this was probably wasn’t even supposed to be this severe. Tony was overworked, underfed, and already had breathing problems from the diminished lung capacity. Having a giant electromagnet in place of your sternum and taking of some of the pleural space would do that. It’s why Tony couldn’t ski anymore; the risk of altitude sickness was too high.

Steve was sweating himself when the city finally came into view, the trees becoming less dense very suddenly. "Tony we made it."

Tony groaned, but he was still awake. "Thank the universe," he muttered. It sounded like a curse. "I hate camping."

As soon as they reached a main road, Steve hailed a cab, asking them to step on it to the nearest hospital. They were safe now. Tony hadn’t gotten any worse, and he was sure there’d be an antivenom. "I think I finally agree with you," Steve whispered. He ran his fingers through Tony’s sweaty hair where his head lay in Steve’s lap. "No more camping."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spiders were black widows. Tony is going to decide later to use that fact against Nat, even if it didn't make any sense. Let him have fun, damnit.


	10. Serial Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a client asks Jessica Jones to find her missing husband, she thinks it's just another Tuesday. There was no way for her to know her investigation would lead her to a serial killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quotes from the Digger (the serial killer) are from Edgar Allen Poe stories. The Digger is actually an existing character in the Marvel 616 universe, I didn't make him up. He had an interesting little debut in _Tower of Shadows #1_ in a spooky story. It's fun, so look it up if you've got the time.  
>  If reading about claustrophobia-inducing scenarios or description of asphyxia is a trigger for you, be warned. I'd skip this chapter. Have fun readers!

Jessica Jones should’ve known things were too easy when the trail of evidence was so obvious. It started as a simple missing person’s case, the usual ‘oh please I haven’t seen my husband in days’ sort of thing that nearly always turned out to be a cheater run off with the mistress.

In the beginning of the search, there even was a mistress. Jessica had followed the man’s credit card transactions to a motel room, where the woman was still staying. Unfortunately, she had no idea where the man had gone.

"And you’re still waiting for him?" Jessica asked incredulously. She had stopped scribbling notes in her pad to eye the mistress.

She looked pained. "He promised me he’d be back so we could leave together!" the woman, Sharlene, burst into tears. "He was only going to drop off the divorce papers."

Jessica gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder, leafing through the cheater’s suitcase again. In fairness to Sharlene, the man did seem to be packed for good. He must’ve bought a whole new wardrobe because there was no way this much was missing from his closet, Jessica would’ve noticed. "When did he leave exactly?"

Sharlene sniffled. "Um, it was probably around 11am yesterday. Yeah, because we were going to get lunch when he got back."

_CCTV? Check nearby gas stations, someone else must have seen him before he vanished,_ she wrote. After assuring Sharlene that she would call when she found the man, Jessica escaped the drab motel for her car. She examined the map on her phone, noting places the missing man may have stopped between here and his home.

The third gas station she checked actually had footage of the kidnapping. They hadn’t done their weekly glance through the footage yet, so they were just as surprised as Jessica when the blurry footage showed a slumped figure approach the man from behind and inject something into his neck. Whoever the kidnapper was had to be strong, because he lifted the unconscious man into the passenger seat of his own car easily, and Mr. Marcus wasn’t light. The Marcuses were both tall, and Mr. Marcus was a fitness nut, 6 foot of dense muscle. The kidnapper was easily a foot shorter, and didn’t look particularly buff.

She couldn’t make out any useful features, besides the slight hunch to his shoulders. The kidnapper never faced the camera. Great, now the police had to be involved. Jessica hoped the client would still pay her.

"Ms. Jones, always a pleasure," the detective said sarcastically. Honestly, she didn’t deserve the attitude she got from the city’s officials, really. It was never her fault the police couldn’t do their jobs, nor was the increase in powered crime that she ended up tangled in her fault. She just seem to draw trouble.

"Detective," she nodded in greeting. "Want the rundown of what I’ve got so far?" She gave him her sweetest smile. If she had to work around these guys for the rest of the case, they could at least be friendly.

Detective needs-to-shave, as Jessica had dubbed him in her head, crossed his arms. "May as well," he sighed. "Though if you’re here, I’m sure this case is gonna involve one of you powered freaks. I don’t get paid enough for this shit."

So much for getting along. "Nevermind, I’ll find the victim myself," she spat. "I don’t have to listen to this bigotry." He shouted after her as she stormed away to her car. She flipped him off without looking back. Once she was a couple blocks away, Jessica pulled over and parked, rubbing her face. She had stopped shedding tears over judgemental pricks years ago, but they were still exhausting. She emailed a copy of her notes and Mr. Marcus’ paper trail to the Detective, so she wouldn’t be bothered later with requests to go to the station. The asshole was gonna feel like an idiot later when Jessica dropped off the kidnapper tied up all neat with a bow.

…

Roderick Krupp whipped his head around in Jessica’s direction at the sound of the detectives’s voice on her phone. She muted it quickly, silently cursing herself. She darted across the gap between the groundskeeper shed and the nearest mausoleum. Krupp continued down the pathway, peering around with squinted eyes. The lights weren’t as bright out here on the outskirts of the cemetery, where all the mausoleums stood like sentries. Jessica held her breath, hoping he would give up the search.

Krupp called out, "Anyone there!? I won’t hurt you." He sounded like a stereotypical old man, but he was definitely not generic. Even in the dark, Jessica could see that his skin was off. It was a green, with some darker bluish undertones on his elbows and neck. It reminded her of a cartoon zombie. He waited another few minutes, listening to the night. He had sworn he heard someone else out here. Why anyone beside him would be out here in the middle of the night was beyond him.

A muffled yell sounded from the other direction, catching Krupp’s attention. "Whatever," he muttered, turning and making his way back to the newly dug grave. Quickly unmuting the phone, hoping the man was still there, she whispered into the mic before hanging up immediately. "Cavalry Cemetery, Mr. Marcus is being buried alive." Jessica darted forward again, hiding behind gravestones for a few moments at a time.

As she drew closer to the kidnapper, she could hear more details. Poor Mr. Marcus was yelling through the wooden box he was locked in, but it was too muffled for her to make out. Jessica couldn’t help the way she winced slightly with each plop of dirt onto the box. "When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed…" Krupp’s gravelly voice rang out as he apparently told Mr. Marcus a story. Jessica recognized the name Prospero, but wasn’t sure where from.

She took a deep breath before stepping into the light. "Stop!"

The hunched green man, who up close looked even more like a zombie more than a man, turned to snarl at her. "You shouldn’t be here!" He screamed. She caught the shovel easily where he had aimed for her head. He gaped at her, surprised, and she smirked as she crumpled the metal with her hand.

Things were looking good for her until Krupp suddenly smirked back. He shouldn’t look that confident in the face of her strength. He lurched forward. She wasn’t fast enough to avoid the hand that now gripped her throat. Krupp lifted her in the air, and she kicked him uselessly. She pried at his fingers, gasping for breath, but Krupp was stronger than her.

The familiar sound of a gun safety turning off broke the killer’s concentration. "Drop the girl and put your hands on your head!" the Detective from earlier shouted. Jessica wasn’t so sure it would work since he was powered.

Luckily, he must not be bulletproof. She fell to her knees, gasping and retching. After she finished coughing enough to feel in control, she brought herself to her feet again. There were already officers there helping a shaken Mr. Marcus out of the hole. She gave her statement, and turned down the medics. She’d be fine, though her voice would be fucked up for a few days. Driving home, tired, she called each of the women in Mr. Marcus’ life. "Found him, he’s alive," was all she ground out before hanging up. She hardly felt like talking. Mrs. Marcus could get her bill in her email tomorrow.

…

The bruises on her neck were mostly gone when she testified against ‘The Digger’ in court. That was what the papers had called him when he was linked to 16 open murder cases. She had to say, it wasn’t a very good serial killer name. Though Matt Murdock was usually a defense attorney, he had pulled some strings with the DA’s office to prosecute this case when he heard the details from Jessica. It paid off to be known as the lawyer who handle ‘special cases’ with any powered parties involved. Jessica couldn’t believe the public still hadn’t figured out the he was Daredevil. He always seemed to know facts about cases that he shouldn’t, cases the Daredevil was involved in. It was obvious!

"Please tell the jury what you saw," Murdock spoke loudly and clearly. Jessica described the night. The jury audibly gasped when she talked about the screams of Mr. Marcus through the coffin lid. Murdock nodded, pacing back and forth thoughtfully as though this weren’t the thousandth time he’s heard her testimony. Court could be such a rehearsed play. "Thank you, Ms. Jones, no further questions."

The trial was very straight forward. Jessica had witnessed the attempted murder, and the rest of the cases had plenty of fingerprints to place him with the body. The only reason they were there at all was because The Digger was going for an insanity plea, but Murdock wasn’t having any of it. Without Jessica’s witness testimony, there may have been a chance of reasonable doubt because Krupp worked at the cemetery and his fingerprints could just be on the tools others used. Circumstantial evidence, it was called. It had taken weeks of exhuming and using some sort of underground sonar to find all of the bodies, as they were hidden amongst the graves that actually belonged there. She had to admit that hiding bodies in a cemetery was a good plan.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" The judge was a tiny woman with a high voice. It didn’t fit one’s general picture of a judge.

"We have your honor. We find the defendant guilty on all counts."

…

Two years later, no one was thinking about the Digger. He was old news, and New York city was never short on new crime to report on. So when the man escaped from prison, nobody thought that maybe Jessica, Matt, and Foggy should be the first people to know. The serial killer did blame them for being put behind bars, especially Jessica. Instead, they found out on the news with everyone else. Jessica was at a bar and saw it on the tiny TV. Luke was helping a friend move by doing all the heavy lifting, so Jessica had taken the opportunity for a solo night. Being engaged was great and all, but she needed some time alone sometimes.

Slamming some money onto the bar, Jessica ran outside dialing Matt. "Hey Jess, what’s up?"

"Have you heard the news tonight?" She asked. As she walked in the direction of her apartment, she was constantly scanning for anything suspicious. Just to be safe, she took an indirect root home.

"No, what’s wrong?" His voice was sharp.

"The Digger escaped," she murmured into the receiver. She wanted to seem natural, not stick out of the crowd. If she yelled the way her nerves wanted her to, she would’ve been spotted by any potential pursuers immediately.

"Shit," the sound came out as a hiss in Jessica’s ear. "I can protect Foggy but is Luke around so you’re not alone?"

"He’s busy tonight. I think I’ll call Trish to get me at home and we can lock up tight at her place." It was a good enough plan. She had the security of a bunker. Her own apartment would be a terrible idea. She and Luke had agreed that they didn’t need any intense locks considering how hard they were to hurt. Plus they were too poor for good security, but their life was fine for them.

"Text me when you’re there so I know you made it."

"Of course," Jessica confirmed. She ended the call and looked around again. It was only one more block. There were some things she’d want from the apartment if she was going to Trish’s (mainly her own liquor, Trish’s choices were atrocious) then she’d call her.

…

Matt was bouncing his leg up and down anxiously. "Maybe I should go looking for her," he started. Jessica wasn’t answering his calls, and Trish never heard from her, and she could be dead. The police would never find him in time to save Jessica if the Digger had her. His MO was to bury his victims the same night. It was more difficult to keep live victims from calling attention or escaping than it was to just be rid of them before the morning light.

"Dude, that man is stronger than Jessica! Plus even you aren’t going to be able to hear her from far away and through a coffin," Foggy countered, not unkindly. He wasn’t really close to Jessica like Matt was, probably because he didn’t have the whole hero thing they had, but he still liked the woman. She was crass and blunt in a refreshing way when one spends their days in stuffy courtrooms. Matt wasn’t thinking clearly though. "We should call in the big guns on this one, there’s no time to fuck around."

Matt cocked his head. "The big guns?" His leg had stopped bouncing.

"Yeah, the Avengers! I bet Stark can find her with his resources in no time." Foggy thought it was a great plan. Sure the Avengers generally stayed out of Hell’s kitchen, letting the local heroes sweat the smaller time villains and organized crime, but he had no doubt they’d help if asked.

Matt honestly hadn’t even thought of it. He dialed Natasha automatically, since they were already friends. "Hey Nat, I need your help…"

…

Jessica woke up in the dark. She tried to sit up and promptly hit her head. She looked around in the pitch black, feeling the small box she was in. "Well fuck." She tried to push up on the lid with her considerable strength, but there had to be metal reinforcing the thing and keeping it shut, because it didn’t budge. "Fuuuuck," she groaned. This was not a good way to go, and nobody would find her easily for a rescue. She wondered how long it would take her to suffocate.

That was when the staggered pitter patter of dirt on the coffin above her began. Great, she was already in the ground. She was being buried alive. Krupp’s voice startled her, and she hit her forehead on the surface above her again.

"True! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story…" The Diggers voice was clear in Jessica’s ears. It made no sense given how thick this trap had to be to hold her in. It took a few more moments of the story for her to realize that she had small speakers in her ears. She pulled one out, but could hear her murderer regardless.

She considered crushing the devices, but decided she’d rather sit through the pain of listening to the creep than be left completely alone down here. The voice was disturbingly comforting when you were alone in the dark underground. Like the Digger was somehow accompanying her to her death. The story was also comfortingly familiar… Was this Poe? Jessica sighed, holding her panic at bay by willpower alone. Maybe a miracle would happen.

The air wasn’t helping her anymore. She kept breathing, harder and faster, but it was just recycled CO2 at this point. It felt a little like drowning slowly. "...Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment..." She heard the man continue, and enough dirt must be on top of her by now that it covered the box completely, for she no longer heard the dirt hitting. There was no holding back the instinctual panic that overtook her. Her lungs burned for air but the air around her was useless.

"...But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound…" _The Tell-Tale Heart,_ her brain finally supplied her, not that it mattered. Jessica had to hand it to the man, it was a good choice. Her own racing heart seemed to be mimicking the old man’s in the story. Her lips were tingling and her vision was becoming crowded with black spots. She could no longer hear the narration over her own roaring heartbeat that blurred into the sound of a rushing wave. Jessica passed out just as she saw a sudden influx of light and a blurry red figure.

Tony had landed, broken the serial killer’s arms, and left Steve in charge of watching him. It had taken JARVIS and him a several hours to locate them, and it was hard to tell how long Jessica Jones had been underground. He wasted no time using a repulsor to blast away the dirt all at once. He melted the locks and ripped the metal coffin open only to see the woman close her eyes with a shudder. Her lips were blue and her hands were bloody from beating on the inside of the box. He couldn’t help the swell of panic that washed over him at just the thought of being buried alive. Tony thought the cave had given him claustrophobia, but this…

Tony quashed the panic, there was no time. He lifted the faceplate of the suit as he lifted Jones’ light body onto the ground above so he could give mouth to mouth. He heard Steve sigh in relief with him when the girl gasped and began heaving in air on her own. When her eyes fluttered open, she was met with Tony’s concerned face. She wasn’t dead. Jessica began crying with relief, and the Tony Stark caressed her face. "You’re okay now, I promise," he assured.

The soggy laugh that burst out of her surprised both of them. "This isn’t how I wanted to meet an Avenger." God, the man had just saved her life, and she was awkward and star-struck.

The admission startled a laugh out of Tony as well. He helped the younger woman sit up shakily. "Well it’s nice to meet you anyways, Ms. Jones. I’m glad you’re alive." He beamed at her.

Jessica shook his hand. This was all surreal. Now that she was sitting up, she noticed Captain America was there too. She waved at him, and he waved back, looking a little confused. SHIELD agents had just arrived and were cuffing the escaped convict, so Steve walked over. Jessica and Tony both stood, and Jessica was already feeling much better. It was hard to believe she had just nearly died. Before she could utter a sound in greeting, Tony clapped an armoured hand on Steve’s shoulder, "Steve Rogers, meet Jessica Jones, star of the night." Tony was making grand gestures and speaking like a talk show host. It broke the awkward mood and he felt victorious.

"Nice to meet you, ma’am," Steve chuckled, shaking her hand.

"Thank you both for saving me," she remembered to say. Trish was going to be so jealous that she met Iron Man and Captain America!

Tony snorted loudly. "Steve, I told you no one uses ma’am anymore," he teased. He met Jessica’s gaze with a grin. "I heard a rumour that you might be able to keep up with even my drinking, wanna test the theory? How better to celebrate being alive than a celebration drink?"

She could see the mischief in his eyes, and Steve was blushing as though Tony embarrassed him. "Oh, you think you know drinking until you’ve gone out with me," she challenged.

The two men shared a silent conversation of facial expressions. Tony must’ve gotten the response he wanted because he let out a whoop. "You’re on, Jones!" And that was how Jessica Jones, PI, became friends with Steve Rogers and Tony Stark. The other Avengers proceeded to weasel their way into her life by the end of the weekend. Her life was strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally believe Jessica would be a little star-struck to meet the big name heroes the first time. You may not believe me, but just remember that Jessica and Luke very rarely get into any of the big business with the cape-crew. They just like their happy marriage and adorable baby in Hell's Kitchen.


	11. Experiments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of science’s most spectacular discoveries were made through risky experiments. Tony Stark was an avid believer in the idea that sometimes you just have to ‘run before you can walk’ technique if you wanted to get anything done in a timely manner. It's how he made the armour, it's how he made most of SI's products, and the strategy served him just fine.
> 
> JARVIS and the Avengers were not in agreement with his strategy, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some moments that could have been smutty, and allude to sex, but I didn't write any here. There just isn't time for it in these short chappys when I'm writing a new one every day.
> 
> There is injection of drugs in this, it's not an addiction situation, but be wary of your own triggers.

Some of science’s most spectacular discoveries were made through risky experiments. Tony Stark was an avid believer in the idea that sometimes you just have to ‘run before you can walk’ technique if you wanted to get anything done in a timely manner. He had explained this to JARVIS over and over again over the years, and seriously, Tony thought JARVIS was supposed to be an intelligent learning AI, so why couldn’t the stupid program seem to learn this one fact!?

"Sir, the risks of this seem to far outweigh the benefits," JARVIS tried desperately. They had been arguing about this for twenty minutes now, and he was getting the sneaking suspicion that Sir was only humouring him.

Tony leaned back in his swivel chair, mockingly considering the AI’s words. "See, that’s where you’re wrong, J. I’ve put plenty of countermeasures in the formula to make the risks minimal. And you can monitor my vitals the whole time!" He spun the chair around in excitement. "If I’m in any danger, you’ll let me know before it’s too late."

JARVIS would sigh if his program allowed it. His creator was looking smug, apparently convinced he had won the debate. "And what does the Captain think of this little experiment?" he asked drily. If one thing could stop Sir from hurting himself, it was the Captain.

"No!" the genius exclaimed in panic. "JARVIS, you are expressly forbidden from mentioning this or any relevant effects of this to anyone unless my life is in immediate danger."

"As you wish, Sir."

The idea had come to Tony in a dream, paradoxically. What if there was a drug that could keep you awake like a stimulant, but long term? Think about how much more time there’d be in a day to get things done! Human productivity, specifically his because most people liked sleeping for some reason, could skyrocket! ‘But, Mr. Stark, what about the negative side effects of sleep deprivation?’ one might ask. Well he had answers for that! Really, they didn’t call him a genius. Granted, running simulations to try and prepare for every scenario, it took Tony over two years to get the formulas down to only two alternating injections. And no, it didn’t work forever, that still killed the simulated people, but he could get people healthily staying awake for three to four months at a time with this! If it worked. Ideally, Tony would rather a one time administration with everything, but it was just too many chemical interactions. So this prototype had two, and he could take one every morning and alternate them.

So what better time to try it out than October? It was the most stressful month of his year because he had so much to do. This could ease his life tremendously if he didn’t need to sleep. He was going to actually get everything done by their deadlines this year!

"This’ll be great, JARVIS. You just have to trust me." Without further ado, Tony took the vial with blue liquid from the suitcase full of them and injected it into his leg. No need having to explain needle marks to the team, right? The AI chose not to respond. It’s not like the man would listen anyway.

…

They were two weeks into Tony’s experiment, and things were going fantastically. Tony hadn’t slept a wink since the first injection and he felt better than he’d felt in years. In fact, the team was starting to get suspicious, especially Steve.

"Heya guys!" Tony’s bright and cheery voice entered the kitchen. He had just come from the lab. Steve watched his boyfriend cross the room with a skip to his step. The man didn’t even reach for the coffee, pulling out orange juice out of the refrigerator instead. Steve narrowed his eyes. Something was definitely up.

Tony had not joined him in bed for weeks. Steve knew there was a couch in his lab that he often crashed on, and that it was October, but every time he asked JARVIS what Tony was up to, the answer was always that he was working. Not once had it been sleeping. Plus Tony wasn’t showing any of the signs of stress he usually did this time of year; the genius seemed _happy_. Steve wished with all his heart that Tony being so happy wasn’t a cause for alarm, but he knew the man. Tony should be stressed and irritable, should have dark circles under his eyes, should be twitchy and a little out of it. Whatever was different this year, Steve wanted to figure out if only to make sure he could repeat it from now on.

" No coffee again?" Steve tried to sound nonchalant. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

Tony glanced at the coffee and back at his boyfriend. "Nah, no need." He finished his juice and stretched. He snagged the poptart out of Clint’s hand and took a large bite. At the archer’s squawk of disbelief, Tony shrugged with a crumby grin. "I buy your food."

"That doesn’t mean you can’t get your own out of the cupboard!" Clint countered.

Tony shrugged again. "Too far away. Whelp, it was good seeing all of you, but this money-maker’s got work to do." He slapped his own ass when he said money-maker before spinning and winking at Steve overtly sexually as the elevator doors shut in front of him.

Steve blushed. Tony could be shameless. "Well, go Cap!" Natasha teased him. "That was an invitation if I’ve ever seen one."

Steve cleared his throat. "Er, right, I’m just gonna go…" he trailed off, pointing at the elevator. Clint wolf-whistled after him.

Tony was pushing away from a work table to face the blond as he entered the lab. The table had a large silver case on it with a keypad lock. Steve idly wondered what Tony felt needed locked up in the safety of his own lab, that already had ample security, but Tony’s predatory smile was distracting. He stood, gesturing for Steve to come to him. Steve’s feet moved of their own accord while he focused on the beautiful man in front of him.

"I see you caught onto my double-meaning," Tony’s voice was already rumbling with desire.

Steve felt his face warm again. "It’s not like you were subtle," he murmured. There was no more need for talk, though, because Tony was devouring his mouth hungrily, and Steve was pulling their shirts off quickly. God, he loved this man.

Tony was lying on top of him restfully after the sex. Steve smiled as he played with Tony’s hair and thought about the couch beneath them. It was getting a little lumpy. Maybe he should buy a new one for Christmas. That seemed like a good gift for Tony. The billionaire would never think to replace it himself. They both slept on this old thing often enough, and Steve didn’t want Tony to get a sore back.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Tony murmured. He was practically purring while Steve played with his hair. He could allow himself a little more time in Steve’s arms before he got back to work. With all the time he was saving by not sleeping, Tony was actually ahead of schedule with his work for once in his life. _Take that, JARVIS,_ he thought with a smirk.

Steve hummed in response. "Nothing in particular, I suppose. How about you? You seem to be in an unusually good mood." Maybe he could get some answers while he had Tony’s attention.

Tony hummed too. "Yeah," he said dreamily. "I love you."

Steve felt warmth spread through his chest and he kissed the top of Tony’s head. Tony was hardly ever the one to initiate an ‘I love you.’ Steve had just accepted the emotional constipation and wariness of affection as part of being with Tony long ago. If he had to explain it, Steve would guess it’s what came from having cold, distant parents and a string of trusted loved ones betraying you. "I love you too, shellhead." He responded fondly.

They laid there for a few more moments, just content in each others’ company. When Tony sat up, Steve had to stop himself from whimpering. He wanted the genius to stay there, but he knew there was work to be done. Tony seemed to read his mind, because he turned to give Steve a long, deep kiss that left them both slightly breathless. "I’m sorry, babe, I gotta work."

Steve sighed while he watched Tony put his clothes back on. "I know," he spoke softly.

Tony turned to give his lover a long look before he continued making his way back to his next project. "Let’s go to a nice dinner next week," he said suddenly.

Steve was so taken aback, he stood in surprise. "But it’ll still be October," he blurted stupidly.

The scientist laughed. "I know, I know, crazy right? I’ve actually got time for you this year, my love."

Staring after him for a few moments, Steve grew cold. Right, clothes. He pulled his clothes on slowly, thinking about everything. This felt too weird, like it wasn’t real. Tony was cheerful and had free time. Was this a dream? The sound of Tony elbowing the machine beside him startled Steve out of his reverie. "Damnit!"

"You okay?" he called out. Tony had his head ducked behind something, so Steve couldn’t see his face. Steve saw a hand wave him off.

"Yeah, yeah!" his voice was muffled. "I’m fine, my arm just sort of moved on it’s own, no biggie."

Shaking his head, Steve headed for the door. He was supposed to spar with Natasha today, and he probably shouldn’t smell like sex for that. For her sake.

With Steve gone, Tony extricated himself from the machine. "Any ill effects yet, J?"

"None that I can see in my scans, Sir."

Tony grinned. "Good thing I’m a genius, huh?"

"Indubitably," JARVIS agreed wryly.

…

Halfway through the third week, specifically day 18 of his experiment, Tony began to notice some undesirable side effects. Nothing worth halting the experiment, but they were notable. He felt sore all over and was a little hyperreactive. A small sound would cause his whole body to jump, and there were twitches here and there that sent his limbs flying into innocent objects.

"Perhaps this is reason to stop the experiment and reevaluate the formula," JARVIS said after recording Tony’s notes on the side effects.

Tony shook his head decisively. "The benefits are still outweighing the negatives. If this is the worst it gets, then I’ve invented my best thing yet!" If it did get worse, well, lesson learned, right?

…

Straightening his tie in the mirror, day 21 of the experiment, Tony inspected his face one last time. His goatee was perfect today. "Oh Captain, my captain," he called into the bathroom. "You ready?" He felt a wave of desire course through him when the supersoldier stepped out. Steve was wearing a royal blue shirt with baby blue pin stripes, and a gold tie. The blue brought out his eyes beautifully, and Tony was surprised to admit the gold tie looked good. Gold fabric tended to look tacky in Tony’s opinion.

Steve smirked at his partner. "You tell me."

Tony groaned. They couldn’t strip now! There were dinner reservations. He tried to think of something gross to get rid of his hardening boner. He cleared his throat, "Yeah," his voice cracked, "I’d say you’re ready."

The blond pulled Tony into his arms, capturing his mouth. He kissed him until he drew another helpless groan from the shorter man, and pulled away. Tony stood on his tip toes in an unconscious effort to follow. Steve’s smile was full of false innocence, but the evil glint was in his eyes. "Let’s get going then." He walked away as though he hadn’t just been toppling Tony’s self-control with his lips.

"Oh, you are such a tease!" Tony growled after him.

…

The restaurant was too hot. Tony was standing in the restroom for the second time already, trying to dry some of the sweat away with a paper towel. A headache was forming, and this had better not be his little experiment finally coming back to bite him in the ass. Things had been going so well! Tony felt his pulse, and it was a little fast for his liking. Right, well, they just wouldn’t get dessert, he decided. Tony could be home in no time and working out what to do with JARVIS without Steve needing to know anything was amiss.

Something was amiss. Tony clearly thought he was hiding it well, but Steve could tell. His boyfriend was sweating profusely. He had caught the man grimacing and holding his head when he thought Steve wasn’t looking. "Tony, what’s wrong?"

Tony’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "What? Nothing. Why?"

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Tony," he admonished. "You’ve barely touched your food, you’re drenched in sweat, and you are clearly trying to hide a headache." Tony’s caught expression told him everything. "What did you do? We can go home." Steve raised his hand to wave over a waiter for the check.

The brunette shook his head furiously. "Steve, no, I’m fine!" and his shaky voice gave him away. How did this go south so quickly? He stared at his hands, betrayed by his body yet again.

"Nice try, Tony. Yeah, can we get a couple boxes and the check?"

A weird feeling came over Tony. He didn’t no how else to describe it, though it wasn’t dissimilar to dissociating. He lurched to his feet, suddenly very afraid. "Steve! Tell JARVIS he can tell now."

Steve stared at the genius in shocked horror. What was he talking about? He caught Tony when his eyes rolled backward and he crumpled suddenly. "Tony!" But Tony wasn’t conscious anymore. Steve couldn’t do anything besides lower him to the ground and move any objects away when the seizure started.

"I called 911, they’re on their way!" He heard the waiter behind them. He nodded dumbly, unable to look away from Tony’s thrashing form.

He pulled his phone out with shaky hands and dialed JARVIS. "Captain?"

"JARVIS," Steve croaked. "Tony said you can tell now." Tears streamed down his face. Tony’s seizure was slowing until he was mostly still, his limbs twitching every few seconds.

"Sir has been injecting himself with an experimental formula," Steve thought JARVIS sounded anxious and angry. The stirrings of anger were beginning in the back of Steve’s mind, but they were easily drowned out by panic. Tony was still breathing and his pulse was fast and uneven. "I will have Dr. Banner meet you at the hospital with samples and a list of ingredients for the doctors."

It was silly because JARVIS couldn’t see him, but Steve felt himself nodding. "Ok." He hung up. The fact that JARVIS knew Tony would be at the hospital without Steve even saying he was hurt told Steve far more than any explanation could’ve. Whatever Tony had been doing to himself, it was dangerous enough that JARVIS was only allowed to tell someone if Tony’s life was at stake. This wasn’t the first time Tony had kept similar secrets. He clenched his fists. The mixture of helplessness, terror, and cold anger was nauseating.

When the medics took him away, he stood rooted to the sidewalk, watching the ambulance leave. He had barely got a word in to tell the medics about Bruce giving them the information when they got there. His mouth felt like cotton. His head was buzzing and his ears were ringing.

Steve nearly brained Natasha with his fist when she touched his arm. The poor guy was still standing in front of the restaurant in shock. She watched painfully as his eyes went from wide with terror to miserable in an instant. Supporting his wait a little, they got in the car Happy was driving. Natasha knew not to expect Steve to really be there with her until they got confirmation that Tony would live. The news they had gotten from JARVIS was suspiciously vague, and none of them actually knew what had happened yet. All she knew was that Tony was taken to the hospital, unconscious.

Steve’s whisper was barely audible over the sound of the car’s quiet engine. "I still see him seizing, Nat." She turned her head sharply, noting the way Steve was staring ahead. Seizures? Tony had never had those before. She reached down to thread their fingers together. They held hands for the rest of the ride and the first two hours sitting in the waiting room. That was when Bruce and a doctor emerged, serious looks on their faces. Steve erupted from his chair.

Bruce wasn’t Hulk, so Tony must still be alive. There’s no way he’d still be himself if Tony was dead. Steve had to remind himself of that. The doctor cleared her throat. "Mr. Stark is in stable condition. He’ll probably sleep for the next few days, but then he should be fine. We’ll keep him here for observation and IV fluids until then."

Clint and Phil caught Steve before his knees hit the ground. He stood again on shaky legs. "Sorry," was all he managed.

"Don’t be," Phil assured him. They all knew how Steve felt. Phil felt similarly faint with relief.

"What did he do?" Clint was the first to voice all of their thoughts.

Bruce and the doctor shared a look. "I can’t give away private patient information." The doctor nodded at Bruce before turning. "Visiting hours start at 8am." She left them in the too bright waiting room.

"I have no confidentiality agreements," Bruce said with a small, tired smile. They all settled back into the chairs. "Tony was injecting himself with two different cocktails of drugs, alternating every morning for the last three weeks." Steve was clutching his legs, and there would be finger shaped bruises, but it kept him from throwing things. "JARVIS says it was an experiment Tony was trying to make a drug that rid humans’ need for sleep." Bruce spoke in a monotone voice. Obviously, Bruce wasn’t very happy with Tony either.

"How many?" Steve asked quietly. Bruce looked up, but it was clear that Steve’s question hadn’t made sense to him. "How many drugs?"

Bruce sighed heavily. "Steve, the mixtures were designed to interact with each other in ways I haven’t even figured out yet." He was avoiding the question.

"How. Many."

Bruce dropped his head in defeat. "38 different drugs and 8 different chemical compounds not found in pharmaceuticals across the two mixtures." The words were met with stunned silence.

Steve wasn’t sure how long they sat there in silence. All emotions had left him behind in the dust, and his empty shell just felt cold. Eventually, they went home to the tower, and Natasha showered him and put him to bed. Steve didn’t help or fight it, just let the spy push him through the motions. He nodded without looking at here when she told him she’d wake him for visiting hours in the morning. Darkness swallowed him.

"I tried to talk him out of it, Captain Rogers," JARVIS’ voice startled him.

"I don’t doubt that." Sure the anger and confusion would return, Steve closed his eyes. Right now, he only felt exhausted.

…

Tony woke slowly. He didn’t want to open his eyes. The soft pillows and warmth of his blanket were so enticing. A smile played at his lips as he reached over, eyes still closed, to feel for Steve.

His hand met the end of the bed. He wasn’t in his bed. Tony sat up, blinking when the harsh hospital fluorescents assaulted him. Right, the drugs.

"Your thighs are lined with the needle marks," Steve’s voice brought Tony’s head around. The blond was sitting in the uncomfortable chair beside his bed. He looked exhausted, though Tony was sure he probably didn’t look much better.

"I can explain, Steve," Tony’s voice was scratchy. He wondered how long he’d been asleep here.

Steve’s flat affect let a flash of anger and hurt through before he schooled his features again. "I’m sure you can, Tony. You always can."

Tony shifted to face him. This was a harsher reaction than he’d been expecting. "Steve, what’s wrong?"

It was apparently the wrong thing to ask. "What’s wrong!?" the blond asked angrily. He stood. "_You’re_ wrong!" That stung. " What is wrong with you, Tony? Do you just not care about your health or is it all a joke to you? Because I just can’t figure out why you’d experiment on yourself with dangerous drugs."

Tony stared at the supersoldier. He had to be kidding, right? Suddenly anger rose up like bile. "Oh _you’re_ one to talk," he spat.

Steve hesitated. The irony of the situation must have actually blown past him until Tony pointed it out. "That’s-"

"Not different at all and you know it. In fact, this was less risky because I had a supercomputer AI monitoring my vitals everyday."

Tony watched his mouth open and shut a couple times. The tension seemed to leave Steve in a rush, and Steve looked like a puppet with its strings cut as he crumpled into the chair again. The sob that left him startled Tony into action. "Hey, no, please don’t cry." Tony moved onto the edge of the hospital bed to grasp Steve’s hand. Steve didn’t lift his head. "I’m fine, it’s fine," he tried to comfort Steve, but the IV in his hand limited his movement. "C’mere," he tugged.

Steve didn’t meet Tony’s eyes as he joined Tony sitting on the edge of the bed. When Tony wrapped his arms around the bigger man, the crying softened to some occasional sniffles. "I just-" he started haltingly. "Why do you always have to keep it a secret?" Tony almost wished the man would go back to avoiding his gaze, because those puppy dog eyes filled him with guilt.

"I’m sorry." Tony moved an arm upward to rub circles into Steve’s back. "But I knew you would try to talk me out of it."

Steve sighed heavily. "I would have. But that’s the point, isn’t it?" Steve reached out and caressed Tony’s face with such awe as though it were a precious diamond. "Someone _should_ try to talk you out of dangerous experiments." Tony began to respond, but Steve continued. " And no, your own AI doesn’t count because he has to listen to you. I get it, I really do. Sometimes science has to be risky, but if you can’t defend the risks to me of all people," Steve leaned in and they kissed gently. "Then maybe the experiment needs reexamined."

It was a good point. Tony looked at Steve’s gorgeous, sad eyes. He had made Steve sad, again. Hurting Steve was never his intention for anything. "I guess I’m not used to not being alone yet," he realized aloud.

Steve hugged his lover in return. Tony nuzzled into his warm chest. "I know, honey. I’ll just make sure you can’t forget, you’ll never be alone again."


	12. Childhood Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Tony just got these ideas. "We’ll each tell you a story about our childhood fears. That way,” he glanced around the room, and his eyes told them there was no getting out of this, “Peter doesn’t grow up thinking he shouldn’t talk about his feelings like some of us did.”  
> That's how a perfectly normal Goosebumps marathon became a night of stories and revelations that the eight year old Peter would cherish forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: mentions of alcoholism, physical abuse, mental abuse, severe illness, false memories, and spooky ghosts
> 
> I'd like to say, my favourite headcanon for superfamily is with Tony and Steve adopting teenage Peter, but here I've had him adopted much younger because I like imagining how they would have raised him when he was little. Also, if anyone is trying to figure out a timeline here that connects all these chapters? It's best you don't, because there isn't one that works. At least not on purpose. I hope this one is fun! 
> 
> Kroshka = a Russian term of endearment, although the literal translation is something like 'little crumb'

"Viewers beware, you’re in for a scare," the voice played over the opening before Steve turned the TV off without warning.

"Alright, I think that’s enough Goosebumps for one day," he told the room. Steve and Peter had been watching the show all day. Each of the others had come into the room at different points, and having been sucked in by one episode or another, settled in to join the marathon. Even Tony had eventually made his way sleepily from the lab. He was currently drooling on Steve’s left shoulder, fast asleep with his plate of pizza still sitting in his lab. Between his husband and his eight year old nestled into his lap, Steve was beginning to sweat.

"But we were just about to reach season four!" Clint whined from his spot on the floor. He was leaning against Phil’s legs against the armchair, and the SHIELD agent was mindlessly playing with his hair, eyes closed.

Tony startled awake at Clint’s outburst, and Steve could punch the archer, Tony needed to sleep. The genius reached down and took another bite of pizza as though he hadn’t just been asleep. "Wait, we stopped the show?" he asked, confused. Steve stifled a laugh.

"Peter here has bed soon," Steve explained to everyone’s groans. "We wouldn’t want him to have nightmares, would we?" He looked down at the child pointedly, ruffling his hair.

Peter pushed his hand off as he sat up, looking like Steve had insulted his honour. "I wasn’t scared! Goosebumps are only scary to babies." Natasha thought the pout and crossed arms made the kid look just like a mini Tony. It was adorable.

"I disagree, young Peter," Thor spoke very seriously. "I thought Slappy was quite frightening."

"But dummy’s can’t actually talk, it was clearly just a bot." Peter explained.

Tony pointed at the child proudly, "That’s right, squirt. You want to make a Slappy bot?" Peter giggled as he nodded in excitement.

Thor poured the rest of the popcorn into his mouth. "The dummy was possessed by a malicious spirit," he spoke while chewing, sending flecks flying. Tony wiped a fleck of popcorn off his face.

"I guess that’s kind of scary," Peter admitted. Thor nodded. "I thought the cursed camera was scarier, so don’t feel bad about being scared." The Avengers shared a look as they all stifled a laugh. Peter attempting to comfort the god of thunder because he thought Thor needed it was one of the cutest things in the world. Steve looked down when he felt his shirt being tugged. "Pops, what were all of you scared of when you were kids?"

Steve opened his mouth to respond that maybe they could talk about it tomorrow, Tony sabotaged him without thinking. "That’s a great idea! We’ll each tell you a story about our childhood fears. That way," he glanced around the room, and his eyes told them there was no getting out of this, "Peter doesn’t grow up thinking he shouldn’t talk about his feelings like some of us did."

While Steve agreed that they should always do what they could to make sure Peter didn’t succumb to toxic masculinity, it didn’t have to be right now. "It’s getting late," he started, but Peter placed a finger to his lips and made a shushing noise.

"Pleeeaaseee!" Peter begged. "I promise I’ll go right to sleep after."

"And I’ll make my special hot cocoa!" Natasha sing-songed.

The night was already out of his control. Steve shot Tony a glare. They would talk about this later. Just because Tony had no semblance of a sleep schedule did not mean that Peter should inherit the bad habit. "Alright," Steve acquiesced. Natasha had already left the room to make cocoa. The woman refused to let any of them know what made hers taste so special, claiming it was a Russian family secret. Only Bruce was ever allowed in the room and that was only to help her top them with whipped cream.

Once everyone had cocoa in their hands and was settled into the couches, Clint jumped up. "Me first!" No one fought him on it. "When I was little, there was local legend about an evil witch named Natasha-"

"No lying Uncle Clint!" Peter cried out. Clint lunged forward to tickle Peter. His squeals filled the room. Steve snatched the mug of cocoa before it spilled, shooting a glare at Clint. Clint winked at him before stepping back towards the TV again.

"You’re too smart for your own good, kid. Fine, I’ll tell a real story, though the witch Natasha scares me as an adult." He ducked the pillow thrown at him before continuing. His face grew more serious as he decided what he should talk about that wouldn’t be too dark for an eight year old. Not that they ever shielded Peter from much, but the kid could stand to mature a little before hearing some of their tragic backstories.

"For part of my childhood, I lived with a traveling circus/carnival. They called us carnies," he explained. "My brother, Barney, and I worked as roustabouts at first. Since we were the only kids, a lot of the adults liked to tell us stories. I was more gullible than Barney. There was this story that everyone worked together to come up with, and they each told it to me in snippets like it was some sort of historical event no one quite remembered."

"Supposedly, there was a set of conjoined twins who used to be part of the crew. Their names were Riley and Kylie. The two women were polar opposites in personality, and their constant bickering became the source of their act. The problem was, Kylie didn’t want to be in a carnival. She wanted to get surgery to separate them, but Riley loved their lifestyle travelling around the country with nothing to tie them down. The doctors wouldn’t attempt anything without permission from both twins; it was a dangerous surgery that was rarely done anyway."

"Their bickering slowly became screaming matches that kept everyone awake at night. Kylie begged her sister to let her live her own life. Riley could come up with her own act, she didn’t need Kylie or to be a freak. She could be a trapeze artist or something, Kylie argued. Riley would scream that Kylie would never escape her, that they were born together and would stay together until the day they died."

"And it might have turned out that way if Kylie hadn’t fallen in love with the knife thrower. They sent each other love notes, Kylie only writing and reading while Riley slept. The affair was rife with tension because the man wanted sex, but there was an obvious obstacle."

Peter snorted at the picture in his head. Sex still seemed gross to him, but it would be extra weird if your sister was attached to you.

Clint waggled his eyebrows at Peter, happy to know the boy was enjoying the story. "Together, the star-crossed lovers hatched a plan. Kylie started hinting to Riley that they should try mixing their act with some of the others, that maybe if Riley found a new partnership she’d like, they could finally agree on the surgery. Riley bought into it, happy enough to humour her sister if it meant they’d stop screaming at each other every night."

"The twins tried out a few things, including letting the knife-thrower use them as a target. The rehearsals went fine, the man never missed, and he always successfully surrounded them with knives without hitting them once. After weeks of this, the ringmaster okayed the act for the show. Kylie was thrilled, their plan would commence that night."

"In front of a live audience, Riley was murdered by knife after knife to her chest. Her screams became the talk of the town for years." Clint heard Peter gasp softly. "With Riley dead, the doctors had no choice but to separate her from Kylie. The lovers did not get to celebrate their success for long, because the angry ghost of Riley showed up the very next night. The poor roustabout who found their bodies could barely tell who they were, they had been stabbed so many times."

"But that wasn’t the worst part! No, the rumour started that the vengeful spirit of the murdered twin still haunted the troupe and killed anybody who lied to their sibling." Clint shuddered. "Barney held that over me for years. I couldn’t lie to him at all because I was terrified of being stabbed by a ghost!" Clint bowed theatrically.

Peter clapped until everyone gave polite applause. "That is scary, Uncle Clint! But you shouldn’t lie to people anyway," he lectured sternly. Clint couldn’t possibly be expected not to laugh at that!

The eight year old only frowned deeper until Clint held his hands up in surrender. "You’re so very right, Peter, I’m sorry. My brother and I weren’t good kids."

Mollified, Peter stood on Tony’s legs to announce who would be up next. "Aunt Tasha, you’re up!"

The assassin took Clint’s place in front of her family. She looked nervous for a moment, something none of them had ever seen on her. "So," she started, voice sharp. She cleared her throat, softening her tone. "This is complicated, my kroshka," she met Peter’s gaze seriously. He nodded for her to go on. Peter was a smart kid, raised by a genius, but he was only eight. Natasha barely understood her own childhood. "I’m not sure which of my childhood memories are real and which are false," she explained gently.

Peter scooted his butt off the couch, surprising the the woman with a hug. "That’s okay Tasha," he assured her. Natasha wasn’t sure when she had become so entangled in this family; she never imagined she’d love a child like she loved Peter Stark-Rogers. Having children had never been in her own plans, but she would give anything for this kid’s happiness. "Fears are real even if their source isn’t anyway." He looked up at her. It was such a wise thing for a child to say, all of the Avengers looked a little taken aback. "But you don’t have to tell one if you don’t want to."

The redhead leaned down, placing a kiss on Peter’s forehead. "Thank you," she whispered. "For you, my kroshka, I will." Peter’s face brightened and he ran back to Tony’s lap, ignoring the squawk from his father.

"In that case, I’ll tell you one of the things I do remember." Natasha tucked her hair behind her ears while she collected her thoughts. "Now, this isn’t real, but I remember it as though it were. The scientists that raised me made me believe that I spent years of my life training at a ballet studio."

"At this studio, I had an imaginary teacher, he name was Ms. Nida. Ms. Nida was very strict, and she scared me." The corner of her lips twitched into a near smile, the false memories bittersweet. She sometimes wish they were real, because they were much nicer than her reality. "I know it may seem silly that I was afraid of a ballet instructor, but you know that look Steve gets when he’s angry at Tony?" She asked Peter.

Peter nodded enthusiastically. "Pops has a scary angry face!"

Tony burst out laughing when Steve blushed, looking at his son, horrified. "Do I scare you?" he asked.

Peter shook his head. "No, I know you only get mad ‘cause you care. But if I didn’t know you, it’d be very scary!" Tony continued to laugh through the entire affair. Steve thought he enjoyed it a little too much.

Natasha waited for their attention to return before she went on. "Well Ms. Nida had a similar face when she got mad. And she could yell like an angry Tony." It was Steve’s turn to chuckle when Peter shuddered. "So when we were learning our parts for Swan Lake, and I was having trouble remembering it, I tried to hide and skip lessons. I didn’t want her to yell at me. Ms. Nida knew all of the studio’s nooks and crannies, though. There was no way I was going to avoid her."

"She called out for me in each room as she searched. Her voice grew angrier with every yell. When she did find me, she slapped me over and over, and made me explain to the whole ballet troupe why they were going to be punished the next day; that it was all my fault. The embarrassment is what really frightened me in the end. I thought all of the other dancers would hate me. So my fear was of being hated." Natasha finished, waiting patiently for Peter’s reaction.

For his part, the boy looked thoughtful for a moment. "But you’re not afraid of being hated now?"

She shook her head, smiling down at him. "I don’t like to be hated, but I don’t fear it. Some people won’t like you, kroshka, plain and simple. There’s nothing you’ll be able to do to avoid it so there’s no sense fearing it. All you can do is be yourself."

"I know, there’s already kids at school who hate me," he answered sadly.

"What!? Who are they? I will march down to that school-"

Steve cut him off. "Tony, you will do no such thing. People are allowed to not like Peter."

Tony huffed. "Well they’re stupid, then. He’s perfect and brilliant and nice…" he tickled the kid in his lap, relishing in the giggles.

Steve watched them fondly. "Who’s next Peter?"

"Hmmm… You!" He pointed at Steve.

Steve smiled. "Well that’s easy. I was afraid-"

"No! You have to stand in front and tell it like a story!" Peter demanded, Tony nodding in agreement behind him. Steve sighed, moving to face the audience.

"Well, everyone knows that I wasn’t a healthy kid. I was constantly ill, too skinny, and had pretty bad asthma. It was just my mom and I, and we never had enough money, mostly because my medicine and doctor’s appointments cost so much. The obvious answer to your question, Peter, would be to say that I was afraid of dying, but it wasn’t that simple."

"I’ve never been afraid of dying. For one, my mother always taught me to believe in God, and I’ve never had trouble knowing that I’ll be in heaven after I die. Nothing could be scary about that. There were many winters when I would go to bed very aware that I may not wake up ever again."

A harsh burst of air punched out of Tony at the same time that Peter let out a soft "oh." Neither of them seemed to be aware of it as they watched Steve with rapt attention, waiting for more. It was easy to forget that Steve used to be so fragile. He just seemed invincible most of the time.

Steve gave them a sad smile. "That’s just how it was when a skinny poor kid got the flu back then. The flu vaccine didn’t even exist yet. I think I got my first one in the middle of the war," he added as an afterthought. "Sometimes, being that sick and miserable, death sounded kind of nice. My body would finally stop suffering." Steve met Peter’s tearful gaze and locked onto them. Peter had never been kept away from the reality of death and suffering. It was something Steve and Tony had agreed on before adopting the boy. He couldn’t have superheroes as parents and not be as prepared for the worst as one can be.

"What I was afraid of, was leaving my mother alone. She was so sad sometimes, lonely after my father died, and I had made it my mission in life to make her as happy as I could. She tried her best to put on a brave face whenever I got really sick, but she couldn’t hide the terror in her eyes. My mother couldn’t lose me, not if I could help it. That fear is probably the only thing that kept me alive through the worst of it. I would feel myself make the decision sometimes, the choice to not die. Because leaving her alone and sad was scarier than the pain of living." His husband and son were both crying now, and Thor sniffed loudly.

Peter stood and faced his pops. Steve was prepared for a hug, but Peter didn’t hug him. Instead he grew very serious. "Thank you for staying alive. It was very brave." He gave a firm nod, then sat back down. When had the night become this serious? Peter’s words surprised a small gasp from Steve. He had to clear his throat, decidedly not contributing more to tonight’s tears.

"You’re welcome. I love you." They snuggled into the couch again, Peter forcing his dads to lean on each other to hold his tiny hands in the middle. He balanced himself on one leg from each of them. Without speaking, he pointed at Thor.

Thor beamed. "I would be honoured to tell a story, tiny Peter!" He stood so heroically, it was easy to forget he was in a t-shirt and sweats instead of his armour and cape. "It has been thousands of years since I was a child. Growing up as the son of the All-Father, I was raised as a warrior from birth. I was too strong to fear anything in Asgard or any of the nine-realms for that matter. No, I was too confident for my own good. What I did fear, was that I would not live up to my responsibilities."

"I knew from the beginning that someday, I must take over as king of Asgard. Frigga and Odin raised me well, and I knew that in theory I would be ready. But in practice, it was far too easy to fail. Technically, past the time when my body resembled a Midgardian child, I was certainly still a child in maturity and age, given Asgardian lifespans. In the 9th century AD, I was given my first task that resembled a practice run for being a king. I traveled to Midgard, and went by the name Donner. The All-Father had tasked me to promote the worship of Asgardians amongst the Norse-men. It seemed to be going splendidly, and my fear of leading and failing was fading."

"The fear was brought forth anew when I found out how the vikings used my name after I left. They slaughtered thousands of Christians in the name of the thunder god. I had never intended my followers to become so cruel. I must not have been clear enough in my leadership. It was an important wake-up call for me. The smallest mistake in handling a people could lead to disaster. That was probably what I would consider the end of my adolescence."

The room was silent. No one was sure right away if Thor was finished. Peter finally broke the silence, "You don’t sound like you were ever a child." His brow was furrowed in confusion. "I love you, Uncle Thor, but you’re weird." It was definitely along the lines of what they were all thinking, but Peter had the bluntness of a child on his side.

Thor let out a boisterous guffaw. "You are not wrong, little one. The fears of an Asgardian prince are perhaps not like the fears of a Midgardian child. You may one day understand that they’re not too different either." Steve noticed that Thor did that sometimes. He would say two conflicting things, but it sounded entirely true nonetheless. Steve supposed it came from the wisdom of his years. "With great power comes great responsibility," the god summarized.

Peter looked filled with awe at the statement. He was so lucky to have so many cool aunts and uncles. Who else at school could say they had a god as an uncle? "Uncle Bruce, would you go next, please?"

Bruce stood in front of them all, fidgeting a little. Bruce didn’t talk about his childhood. Ever. They all had vague ideas about his history, but even Natasha hadn’t read about it in his SHIELD file. She normally valued knowing people over their privacy, but Bruce was so private and meek, it just felt wrong to pry. The scientist pulled his glasses off, wiped them with his shirt, put them back on. He glanced between Steve and Tony a few times before locking eyes with Tony. "Are you okay with me talking about my childhood with him?" he asked quietly.

Tony was the only one that knew. Bruce didn’t open up much, and had only shared small snippets with Tony in the strange twilight hours of long nights together in the lab. They came when the two were heavily sleep deprived, and usually after Tony had revealed something painful about his own childhood. Tony was deeply honoured to be in Bruce’s trust, but he still didn’t feel like he knew as much about Bruce as Bruce did about him.

The rest of the room watched them with baited breath. Even Peter seemed to pick up on the privacy of the moment and held his tongue. Tony held his best friend’s gaze. He had no issue with Peter hearing these things, his son had unfortunately heard worse. Wade Wilson’s past was pretty terrible, and the two of them seemed to attract all the children from broken homes at school. Tony liked to assume it was Peter’s amazing kindness that brought the saddest children to his side, seeking comfort. The kid’s heart was so pure and giving. Tony was only worried about Bruce. "Only if you’re okay to talk about it," he answered eventually.

Another tense moment past before Bruce made up his mind. He sat down on the floor, smiling at Peter. "Is it alright if I sit while I tell my story, honey?" In response, Peter extricated himself from his parents’ laps and sat next to Bruce, locking their hands together. Peter gave him an encouraging smile. Bruce kept the tiny hand in his and his eyes on Peter’s through the whole story. It was so intimate, and Steve’s heart swelled. His family was so perfect.

"Well, I’m not sure how to start," Bruce admitted quietly. "I guess I should start by tell you that not everyone should have children." Peter nodded gravely. "My father was not a good man. At least, not while I knew him. My mother was far too good for him, and he knew it." Bruce took a steadying breath. Peter’s hand in his gave him the strength to go on. He could do this.

"My mother, Rebecca, loved me very much. I was the center of her universe, and sometimes it made it easy to forget that my father was there on the sidelines. If we focused enough on each other, it was like we could enter our own little pretend world, where he didn’t harm us. We both feared him. If he came home smelling of booze, she would try to hide me away fast enough that only she would get a taste of his wrath, but it rarely worked."

"You see, Brian, that was his name, Brian thought he loved my mother. I’m not so sure he knew what love was. In truth, Brian loved to own her. She was his wife and that meant she was supposed to adore him. So when my mother loved me, showed me that love, he was furious. The jealousy consumed him more than his alcoholism. Brian hated me because in his eyes, I stole his wife’s attention from him. I don’t think Brian ever showed me a single ounce of kindness, only hate. He beat me bloody and told me how much he wished I had never been born, how much I didn’t deserve his Rebecca."

"He was wrong," Peter whispered without thinking.

Bruce smiled sadly. "Yes, he was. I luckily had my mother’s love and her cousin’s love to counter that hate. They made sure I knew that his hatred had never been my fault." He sighed, and Steve thought he had never looked so old and worn. "Nevertheless, I feared him. One night, my mother and I packed up some bags, and were going to escape. Brian, in a drunken rage, he killed my mother." Peter gasped. "I watched him beat her to death in the driveway, too afraid to do anything. He ended up in a mental facility and the last I ever saw him was when I testified against him in court. Brian was my only childhood fear, but I also never faced it. Peter, I," he cut himself off. The room was deafeningly silent. "I don’t tell you this easily, and it’s not just to show how scared I was as a child."

"I was about your age when it happened. It’s okay to be afraid, but I never stopped, and that’s where I want you to be different. My unfaced fears became anxiety and fear of a lot of things around me. The only way I found comfort was not in my mother’s cousin who raised me after the murder, but in my imaginary friend ‘Hulk.’ Hulk was fearless and angry like I wished I was, and he could handle all of my fears for me. I depended on this figment of my imagination all the way into adulthood. So when the accident happened, and I got the Other Guy, it shouldn’t have surprised me. I made him."

Peter wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck. They hugged, tight. No one had anything they could say to a revelation like that. Tony had no regrets in letting Bruce tell the tale, and Steve was glad for it. Peter had recently been more curious about the Other Guy and how that could be his Uncle Bruce at the same time. Neither of them felt capable of explaining the ideas of repressed anger that Bruce encompassed, but Bruce had explained it beautifully and in a way an eight year old could still understand. "I love you _and_ the Other Guy, Uncle Bruce," Peter spoke fiercely. He pulled back from the scientist’s arms, smiling at him brightly. " You are him and he is you. I love all of you."

Everyone was sniffling at this point. How could they not? Peter stood there, clueless to how much they were all admiring him. "Uncle Phil!" he singsonged. It was so at odds with the mood of the room, that it broke the tension. Steve could feel them all shift, changing focus and allowing the stifling emotions to dissipate. "Your turn!"

Coulson spoke the same way he gave mission reports and debriefings. Clint was grinning at the man the entire time, snickering occasionally, and Phil was expertly ignoring the man. "I’m not nearly as interesting," he started, all dry humour and sarcasm. "I was afraid of Bloody Mary as a kid. I’m sure you’ve heard of her." Peter nodded in agreement. He and Wade had already tried to summon her several times before JARVIS explained that it was only an urban legend. "My older sister had me convinced that her friend at school had been killed by her. She even made a fake newspaper article and obituary. My whole family got in on it. I was terrified. I didn’t successfully make it through her name three times until I was sixteen. They haven’t let me live it down to this day."

Peter clapped and laughed before a yawn overtook him. "Thank you guys, I loved it!" He looked at Steve. "I promised I’d go to bed, so, I gotta go." The rascal even made it as far as the hallway before Steve caught up to him, scooping up the squealing bundle.

"I think you’re forgetting one of the people in the room." He began walking back to the group, meeting Tony’s amused expression equally.

Peter shook his head. "Nope! Daddy’s not afraid of anything."

Tony stretched with an exaggerated yawn. "You heard the kid, I have no fears!" His shit-eating grin was begging for a smack. Peter giggled gleefully, enjoying their little collaboration.

"Oh really?" Steve cocked a brow at Tony, smirking. "Fearless Tony Stark-Rogers never needs my comfort again, huh?"

Tony stuck his tongue out. "Yeah!"

"I don’t think so, mister," Steve made sure to put on his stern Papa voice. "This was your idea, you can finish it up."

Tony scrunched up his nose, never able to deny that voice. Steve knew it, too, and really, Tony should be glad that the man didn’t abuse the power. "Fine, fine. I’ll go." He stood to face the crew. If only Peter weren’t here, he’d make something meaningless up. But everyone had been so honest, and his son deserved the truth from him. "I never had to worry about money, or being sickly, or believing in superstitions, or leading worlds for that matter." Tony allowed time for the chuckles. He was nothing if not a showman. "Being born a Stark prodigy, normal childhood fears and wants were just not a consideration. I can relate to the abusive father bit, though I didn’t fear Howard. If anything, I pitied him."

"At first, I thought I was afraid of alcohol. I thought maybe it was the reason my father could be so cruel. But even then, I wasn’t afraid of it. I merely hated my father for succumbing to it. If I could drink it as a four year old and not be so mean, then clearly my dad must just be weak." He glanced over at the minibar against his will. "No, I didn’t fear alcohol either."

Tony began pacing. "What kept me up at night and fed my nightmares, well it was far spookier." He quirked a lopsided smile at his son. Peter was watching him carefully. He was enjoying the show, but he knew his dad well enough to know that Tony was only pretending to be blasé. His dad was going to tell him something important, and Peter would hang on every word like usual.

"I was afraid of myself." Clint snorted, and Natasha smacked him. "Yeah, I know how it sounds, but I was. No matter how many times I went over the data, the only conclusion I could come to that could explain why I had no friends and not even my parents loved me was that I was wrong. Something was wrong with me. I shouldn’t exist, I must be an abomination. And it frightened me."

"I was afraid that I could never be good either. If I was so utterly unloveable and wrong to begin with, how could I get better? I tried lots of ways to be different, to just be someone else other than the loathsome Anthony Edward Stark, but I always came back terrifyingly _me_." He frowned, trying to think of the words to make this make more sense. " The way I saw it, I suppose, was that there was two of me. There was the one doing the thinking and the feeling, and there was the scary _other_ that somehow always ruined it for me. And I didn’t know how to get rid of him." He shrugged. " Whelp, time for bed!"

"What!?" Peter and Clint yelled in unison. "You can’t leave it there," Clint continued. "There’s no resolution! What kind of story telling is that!?"

"Yeah!" Peter agreed enthusiastically.

Tony threw his hands up. "Well I don’t know! I don’t have a resolution. That was my childhood fear, I answered the question!"

Peter shook his head. "Fine, I’ll finish for you!" Peter stood in front of Tony, mimicking the man’s body language. He cleared his throat. Tony was thrilled to see where this was going. "So I kept trying to run away," Peter tried to make his voice deep. Tony’s grin was so wide it hurt. They were all laughing silently, watching the scene unfold. Peter was so cute it was hard to remember the subject matter. "I got in trouble," Peter gave up on doing the voice. "I made friends while pretending to be not Tony. All me new friends thought I was fun and all party, but I knew the real me. The scary other." Tony suddenly felt kind of cold. Was he so transparent that an eight year old could read him like this? He had never wanted Peter to be the one teaching everyone else how to be. It was his job to teach Peter, but he often found himself learning more than teaching.

"It was only when I finally let some people meet the real me, and found that they didn’t run away screaming, that I began to face my fear. If Uncle Rhodey, I mean Rhodey, wasn’t scared of me, then why should I be scared of me. So then I realized I was actually awesome and cool, and I met Steve who was also awesome, and we fell in love and lived happily ever after!" Peter finished big, raising his fists in a victorious stance. Tony stood in shock behind him while the rest of his family erupted into applause.

"Bravo!" Thor shouted.

"Now that’s resolution!" Clint agreed.

Peter turned to grin up at his dad. He snatched the man’s hand, and began dragging him towards his room. "Now come tuck me in, Daddy." Tony let himself be led away, looking back at Steve with his face frozen in shock. Steve only smiled at them.

When Tony finally joined Steve in bed, he shuddered, letting the tears fall. Steve sat up, glad when JARVIS turned up the lights without being asked. "Peter hit a little too close to home?" Steve asked, pulling Tony into his arms. Tony didn’t respond, but nodded into his husband’s chest. Steve let him cry for a little longer. "He was right, y’know."

Tony pulled away and eyed the blond with disbelief. Steve wasn’t having it, though. "No really, Tony, he was. Look at all the awesome people who love you. If you were so abhorrent, then either we’ve all lost it, or kid you got it wrong. Now which do you think is more likely?"

Tony made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "I’m still not convinced you haven’t all lost it."

Steve chuckled a little as well, pulling Tony down with him to lie down. "Maybe it’s a little of both," he admitted happily. JARVIS lowered the lights again, and the two men held each other until they fell asleep.


	13. Inhuman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man **inhuman**." \- Marian Anderson  
> When Steve proposes to Tony, some of the homophobic Captain America fans come out of the woodwork with a lot to say. People do dangerous things when they fear what they don't understand, and apparently two men in love is just too spooky for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the Gala can be heard [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bc3_1m2_srU)  
> If any of you can actually find the lyrics written out, please let me know because it is shockingly hard to find, but the song is beautiful and what I can make out of the lyrics is wonderful. I may be in love with the idea of Steve loving Marian Anderson.
> 
> I got a little carried away with this one, so it's the longest chapter by far. That plus starting a new job is why I've fallen a little behind, so I'm sorry about the late update! Hope y'all are still enjoying this, I'm loving writing it. 
> 
> Warning for slightly homophobic comments. Also since Jimmy Kimmel is a real person, I want to stress that this work is entirely fictional and I use his name solely as a character within this work; nothing here is a real quote from him.

"Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man **inhuman.**" \- Marian Anderson

...

Steve Rogers often forgot that he wasn’t just a man. Captain America was a symbol of hope and patriotism, and the man behind the mask was often put on a pedestal. The average american who didn’t personally know him typically had their own distinct ideas about who Steve should be. Tony tried to make the man understand that, but he never wanted to listen.

"It doesn’t matter! They can think what they want but I know who I am, Tony, and I don’t care if people like it," Steve shouted. The argument wasn’t a new one, and his patience was beginning to wear thin. He understands that Tony’s heart is in the right place, but the genius was not hearing his words.

Tony threw his hands up in frustration. "You’re Captain fucking America!" He ignored Steve’s muttered ‘language.’ "It doesn’t matter if you care about the public opinion, the public will make themselves heard anyway. When people decide they hate something you do, they don’t just say it, they riot. When they like what you do, they throw parades to celebrate." He sighed, the anger draining out of him, leaving only weariness. "I wish I was wrong, you could cause a civil war just be saying the wrong thing, Steve. We can’t be public."

That was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? Steve wanted the world to know how important Tony was to him, but Tony kept blocking his attempts to talk about their relationship to the press. Everytime a question about his love life came up, he would open his mouth to answer only for Tony to divert their attention with one of his latest scandals. Reporters would shout loudly over each other for a chance to get the great Tony Stark’s comment on something controversial, and Steve’s responses would be dead on his lips. Tonight was going to be the end of it. Steve had made sure of his plan. It didn’t matter this time how much Tony tried to talk him out of it. The world would know about his feelings and his sexual orientation.

"It’s 2018. Nobody is going to riot because Captain America is gay." Steve was done with this conversation. Tony’s attitude was spoiling his good mood. "I’m going to go for a run. Be ready to leave at seven." He left the lab before Tony could say more. Pepper and the Avengers’ PR agent had set up the interview on _Jimmy Kimmel Live!_ several months back. According to them, Kimmel wanted to talk to the two of them about being the Avengers’ leaders, and how their different leadership styles meshed during missions. When Steve had called Kimmel’s assistant with his idea last week, Jimmy himself had called him back to tell him it was a go.

" The audience will love it!" Kimmel exclaimed. "I’ll throw it into the middle of the interview, so there’s time for Mr. Stark’s reaction to play out whatever it is. When I tell him that you wrote the next question, that’ll be your cue. Oh, I’m so excited! My show is going to be talked about for weeks!"

Steve grinned into his phone. "I’m so thankful you’re allowing it Mr. Kimmel, I’m sorry to take away time from what you had planned."

"Don’t be ridiculous! This is way better than anything my writers could come up with!"

Steve checked his hair in the mirror for the fifth time. He felt like a walking flag in his navy blue suit, with red tie and white shirt, but Pepper had brow beat him into wearing it. Tony was going to be wearing a gold tie with a deep red suit and shirt. Tony loved it, but Steve wished they didn’t have to be so obviously mimicking their uniforms. It made him feel like they weren’t allowed to be Steve and Tony, they were only allowed to be Captain America and Iron Man. He was reminded of his fear of being a dancing monkey that had began all the war back in WWII.

The small black box in his pocket brought Steve back to the present. He patted the lump, taking a deep breath. He was _not_ nervous. Tony was going to say yes. All Steve needed to do was ask. The question was really a formality; Steve and Tony had been promising each other eternity for awhile now. Tony wasn’t ashamed of being with Steve. They were only a secret because Tony thought the public couldn’t handle Steve being with a man. That was all. The knock on the door forced him to give up on the internal pep talk.

" Steve! Happy is waiting!"

Steve opened the door where Tony was still knocking. He smiled down at his handsome boyfriend, stealing a kiss. The aroma of his aftershave burned Steve’s nostrils a little. He loved it all the same. No matter how hard Tony tried, he’d always have the slight smell of metal and oil clinging to him that Steve loved. "Let’s go, love."

…

Steve watched Tony answer another question and the rest of the room could’ve disappeared for all he cared. When the billionaire really got going in an interview, his real personality would begin to bleed through the cocky public persona. His easy going responses put even the most rowdy reporters at ease and he expertly steered conversation to topics he was comfortable with. Growing up in the spotlight had shaped him into the perfect interviewee that Steve, with his awkward shyness, could never hope to be.

"... So sure, we disagree now and again, but it never puts a mission in jeopardy. Cap will always defer to me on aerial combat, and I’ll defer to him ground combat in the end," Tony finished his answer, smiling over at Steve. Steve resisted the urge to lean over for a kiss right then.

"The next question is directed at you Mr. Stark, and it was actually written by Captain America himself!" The applause erupted when Steve stood. Tony met his eyes, confused.

‘What are you doing?’ he mouthed the words. Steve only gave him a nervous smile in response.

As the applause died down, Steve realized he couldn’t back out of this now. He got down on one knee, ignoring the way the audience began screaming in excitement. Steve was focused only on Tony’s reactions. The brunette’s confused look slowly morphed into a scarily blank face, but Steve could see the fear in the man’s eyes mixed with anxious excitement. There was so much there in the brown eyes, and maybe this had been a horrible mistake. Steve held his breath as he pulled the little box out and opened it.

Tony’s heart had stopped. He was certain of it. What was Steve thinking!? He felt dizzy, and oh yeah, maybe he needed to breathe. He took in a shaky breath. He couldn’t even tell anymore if he was ecstatic or terrified. Of course he had wanted this, more than anyone could imagine, but Steve was not thinking this through. The right wing news was going to tear them to shreds tomorrow. A hush fell over the audience, and Tony could feel the people leaning forward on their seats in anticipation, but his own gaze was locked onto the kneeling blond.

"Anthony Edward Stark, will you marry me?"

Tony forgot his own very valid fears when the words hit him. Steve wanted to marry him! How many times had he dreamed about this very moment? The fact that they were on live television faded away and Tony needed to keep breathing. Steve’s face was so hopeful and nervous, and that made Tony want to burst out laughing. Did the man honestly think Tony could ever say no to him? He cleared his throat. "Yes," it came out as a whisper. "Yes," he said louder this time. "Of course, you idiot, now get up here."

Tony pulled the stupidly grinning Steve off his knees and into a kiss. The audience went wild and their host was saying something about happy couples and a commercial break, but all the two men cared about was each other. Tony swore he could feel Steve’s heartbeat thrumming through him. Steve smiled against his lips, trying to pull back, but Tony clutched the man’s jacket tight. Steve would not escape him that easily.

Kimmel clearing his throat startled them both back to reality. Steve blushed a deep scarlet that matched his tie, and Tony smirked at how swollen his lips looked. "While I understand the sentiment, gentleman, we’ll be back live in a two minutes. So maybe the ring shouldn’t be on the floor?" He pointed to the forgotten black box Steve had dropped.

Steve snatched the box back up, slipping the ring onto Tony’s finger. When they were back in their seats, much closer together on the couch now, Tony actually looked at the ring for the first time. It was a simple silver ring with a blue stone the colour of Steve’s eyes. On close inspection, the band itself had an intricate design carved into it that made reminded Tony of a circuit board. It was too perfect, and Tony was grinning at it like a smitten schoolgirl when the band and applause indicated the end of the adbreak.

"So, Mr. Stark, show the cameras your beautiful ring!" Tony held up his hand as the camera zoomed in, wiggling his fingers excitedly. "It really is something, isn’t it? Captain Rogers, where did you get it?"

Steve squeezed Tony’s other hand in his lap. "I, uh, well, I got the stone from an antique store, but I made it." Tony gaped at his fiancé. When had the man found time?

"Oh, wow!" Kimmel leaned back in his chair in clear surprise. "I don’t believe I knew you could make jewelry. Is this something you’ve done a lot?" Steve chuckled. His elation had rid him of all his usual shyness. Tony had said yes! "It’s my first attempt at jewelry, I’ll admit. I’m not very into metalworking, Tony being the metal expert I leave it to him, but I did go to art school before I enlisted. I know a thing or two about design and aesthetic."

"That’s right! I forgot about the art school. I’m a bit rusty on my 1940s Steve Rogers trivia, I’ll admit. I did go to your exhibit at the museum once, though."

The rest of the interview went by in a blur for the two of them. Tony wanted nothing more than to get Steve out of those clothes so he could show him how much he really appreciated the proposal. While he wasn’t necessarily against jumping the man on TV, public indecency was frowned upon and whatnot. When they got home, Tony couldn’t even strip immediately like he wanted, because the Avengers were waiting with a banner and surprise party. Tony and Steve grinned their way through the congratulations, making sure they spent a proper amount of time enjoying the party, but they both just wanted to be alone.

"Finally!" Tony growled after he slammed their door shut. Steve had no complaints with the fervor, only helped Tony to strip them both down as quickly as possible. "I can’t believe you did that on television," Tony’s voice was husky with arousal. Steve allowed him to hold him down on the bed, just watching the smaller man kiss a line down his front before gasping in surprise when Tony nipped the inside of his thigh. "You’re insane."

Steve huffed. He was too distracted by the sensation of Tony’s hands on him to think clearly. "You don’t seem to be complaining," he replied dizzily. Tony teased at his tip with his tongue, and Steve hissed. His hips bucked before he could stop them, but Tony smirked up at him, victorious. He had Steve at his mercy in five minutes tops every time.

"Oh I’m not complaining," he murmured, crawling back up to silence Steve’s moan with his own mouth as he wrapped a hand around Steve’s penis. He gave a lazy stroke, impressed with how quickly Steve could be so hard. He began sucking at Steve’s neck, pulling his hand away to scratch ten red lines up Steve’s abs and chest. The air hitting the raw skin was a perfect contrast to the moist warmth of Tony’s mouth on Steve’s neck. Tony pulled back to look down at Steve from above. His pupils were blown wide and Steve thought he had never looked more beautiful. "You are insane, though," Tony’s voice was strained, his own erection untouched so far. "You’re not going to be able to leave the tower for weeks without being harassed by reporters."

Steve ignored Tony’s hand this time when he tried to block Steve from grabbing him. He felt Tony twitch eagerly in his grasp as he watched Tony throw his head back with a moan. Tony’s sounds were always the best part for Steve. The man could make the most obscene noises, and it was the only time Steve could make him fumble his words. Steve reached into the drawer beside him, pulling out the lube. "I really don’t care," Steve responded before sticking a slicked finger inside his new fiancé. He grinned when Tony whined and pushed down onto the finger, already begging for more.

…

Tony had been predictably correct. The next morning, every news station across TV and radio was talking about Captain America’s engagement to Iron Man. Steve decided his morning run was not worth it when he saw the crowd waiting right outside the tower. He decided to ignore Tony’s ‘I told you so’ smug face when he returned from the lobby and headed to the gym to use the treadmill. Tony was still in the kitchen watching another news channel an hour later.

Steve walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around Tony, who leaned back for a kiss. "How was your run?" he smirked up at Steve.

Steve merely returned the smirk. "Still worth it," he kissed Tony again, savoring the coffee taste. Tony returned to the news on the tablet in front of him, holding out his empty mug towards Steve. Steve shook his head fondly as he refilled the coffee before moving to make his second breakfast. "Have you eaten anything today?" he called behind his shoulder.

Tony only hummed in response, too focused on whatever the reporter was saying in front of him to actually listen to what Steve had asked. Steve couldn’t hear anything, so the captions must be on. He gave up and decided to make Tony some food anyway, since he likely hadn’t had anything besides coffee. If he didn’t eat it, Clint certainly always would, so it’d hardly go to waste. Tony let out a frustrated growl behind him. "Tony," he sighed. "Why don’t you just ignore them? That’s what you normally do."

"It’s different." He finished his coffee and set it on the counter a little too hard. "I’m used to the things they say about me, but now they’re saying horrible things about you! Well, mostly me still and how I must have duped you or am a bad influence but still! Fox is saying you’ve betrayed you values," he looked to see why Steve had stopped making cooking noises. The blond looked much angrier than Tony was expecting. He had seem so unperturbed by it all only a moment ago.

"They said that you duped me?" Steve’s voice was low and dangerous. "That you influence me negatively!?" It rose to a near shout. Tony flinched instinctively, not used to Steve’s actually angry voice in the close quarters of the small kitchen. Steve lowered his voice again, annoyed that he had made Tony flinch. "JARVIS, call Anne and have her come over today if she can."

"Right on it, Captain Rogers."

Tony gaped at the man, lost. "Why are you talking to PR? I thought the plan was to ignore them until they moved onto the next big story?" He watched Steve war with himself, his face twitching with conflicting emotions. He moved forward, turned off the stovetop before Steve burned his food, and grabbed Steve’s hands from underneath his crossed arms. Steve watched their hands for a moment, before meeting Tony’s eyes. "What is bothering you?"

Steve closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he reopened them he looked much calmer. "Yes, you’re right. JARVIS, can you cancel that?"

"Of course."

"It’s just the idea that I’m somehow better than you I guess. Like why not ask if I was the one who duped you?" Steve looked so sad and confused, Tony felt so heartless for the laugh that slipped past his lips unwanted. Steve pulled his hands away, irritated.

"Wait, no, sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh," Tony started. Steve had turned back to cooking, though, and wasn’t looking at Tony. "Steve, please."

Steve kept cooking. "Go on Tony," he said tiredly.

"It’s just, the idea of you duping me was really funny to me, I didn’t mean to actually laugh."

"But the idea of me duping you is fine?" He asked.

Tony felt like he had walked into some sort of trap. That there was a wrong answer here. Maybe he should work around the question rather than answering directly. "Well if one of us were better than the other, you’re clearly the better one." That was the wrong answer. All of Steve’s movements became sharp and harsh, slamming plates down and dumping food on them messily before throwing utensils in the sink. The clamour seemed to solidify that Tony had fucked up.

Steve sat down at the counter, so Tony took his own seat warily. They ate in tense silence for several long minutes before Steve looked up at him again. He looked sad instead of angry. "You believe that don’t you?" Tony ran through the conversation again, not sure what was being asked. "That I’m better than you. That you duped me." The questions had become statements.

Tony felt like an idiot for not realizing what was bothering the man earlier. Of course it was because he thought they were equals. Tony and the rest of the world knew that Steve was a better person, but Steve had come to believe that Tony was as good as himself. Tony wasn’t complaining, but he knew it wasn’t true. "I’m sorry," he spoke sincerely. He couldn’t lie and tell Steve that he was wrong, but he could apologize for it.

Steve took Tony’s hand. "I know you are." He kissed Tony on the forehead. "I love you so much, and I will make you believe that you deserve me someday." Tony threw him a lopsided smile. He would love that to happen.

…

By the time the Stark Industries Halloween Gala rolled around a few months later, the stories about Steve and Tony had died down. Here and there a piece would show up offering someone’s opinion on the matter, but everyone had moved onto more important things for the most part. Like what the two engaged superheroes would be wearing to the Gala.

"I really think you could pull off a dress, shellhead," Clint said at dinner that night. Thor had brought a tabloid magazine to the table with an article speculating about their attire. "Then maybe the conservatives will be a little happier about Steve’s gayness if you’re the feminine one." The rest of the Avengers had found the whole debacle immensely amusing. Clint especially loved to poke fun at the stories where Tony was an evil seducer that turned Captain America gay.

Tony pretended to think about it. "I suppose I could really piss them all off by shaving and wearing a wig. Though that may offend the drag or trans communities. I’ve always wanted to get into drag, though. Imagine me, a drag queen. Iron maiden, I could be a dominatrix-esque drag queen!"

"Oh, I would love to help you come up with routines!" Thor enthused. It may or may not actually be one of Tony’s secret dreams, but he knew he’d never be able to get into it without a media shit-storm claiming he was trying to poke fun or was a bigot. Really, he wasn’t sure where the idea had come about that Tony would be conservative or right-wing was beyond him. His dad may have been a capitalist douche bag, but even Howard had thought being anti-LGBTQ+ was just plain stupid. Like who cares what people do in their private lives? If it’s not hurting anyone…

"I never realized how much I wanted to see you in drag," Natasha commented, eyeing him intensely. "And I see Steve is on the same page," she glanced over at the blushing man, only causing his blush to deepen.

Tony spit out his drink. "Wait, Steve, is it true?" He turned to look at his fiancé excitedly.

"I, well, I, uhm," he spluttered. "I would want you to keep the goatee!" he blurted out. Tony could not have found a more adorable man to marry. He pulled Steve in for a kiss, that quickly turned a bit too sexually charged for the dinner table.

"Ugh, God, get a room!" Clint flung some peas at Tony.

Tony ignored the projectiles, but pulled away nonetheless. "I can dress in drag for you," he whispered in Steve’s ear before going back to his dinner as though nothing had happened. Steve might just pass out from how red he was getting. Tony tried to keep his expression innocent, only grinning in victory inside his head.

"Well, I have come up with a few outfit pairs for you, if you’d like," Coulson spoke, dry as always, so Tony couldn’t tell if he was serious. The way Clint whipped around in surprise told him that Coulson wasn’t joking. "I worked on it with Darcy," he said with a shrug as though that explained anything at all.

Steve couldn’t deny that he was curious. "I’d love to see them," he told Coulson, happy to change the subject from Tony in drag. Not even he had known he wanted that until the picture had popped into his head. "The Gala is masquerade though, right?" Steve turned to look at Tony.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, although most people only have their masks on in the beginning for pictures." He scrunched up his nose. "They get weirdly sweaty."

"I’m adding you to our google doc, Cap," Phil said while he typed on his phone.

"Do I have to go?" Bruce asked from the other end of the table? "I know we were all invited, but I hate these things."

Tony frowned at his best friend. "Well I can hardly force you, but it’d look better if the Avengers all showed up so the press doesn’t come up with some stupid theory like that we’re not getting along or something. Knowing them they might decide you hate that Steve and I are together. I’ve seen some hilarious fan theories that you’re jealous because you and me were meant to be," Tony snorted.

Bruce’s cheeks turned pink. "You and me? You’re not really my type."

"I know, right!?" Tony was still laughing hysterically. "So you’ll come?"

Bruce nodded in defeat, "If it’ll keep them from theorizing."

"Oh I’m sure it won’t," Phil said.

…

They ended up on tuxes with each other’s usual colour schemes. Tony wore a light blue vest, with matching pinstripes on his pants. The tux jacket and bowtie were black with a blue shimmer that you could see only when the light hit it right. He thought it looked perfect with his engagement ring, and he used one of those blue tinted mascaras to accentuate his naturally long lashes. Now that he knew Steve had a thing for it, he finally had an excuse to start exploring some of the more feminine parts of vanity he’d always wanted to, but he’d start slow. There was the public to consider, of course.

Steve wore a maroon vest with a black tux, and his bow tie matched the vest. The best part, in Tony’s opinion, was the gold glittery shimmer that was over the whole tux set. Tony wasn’t sure how his designer friend, Janet Van Dyne, had done it, but it looked like someone had very lightly sprayed the whole thing with gold glitter spray paint. Steve’s mask was an arc-reactor blue, as he called it, feathered along one side with gold feathers. Tony’s was a phantom of the opera half face style white, with a red and blue gradient of tiny, sparkly stars along the outer edge. Together they looked simultaneously gorgeous and ridiculous.

"How did I get such a handsome fiancé?" Steve asked in wonder as they headed out for the limo, already assaulted by paparazzi. The security detail for the Avengers was being handled by SHIELD and SI together given the amount of super-powered enemies they had all acquired over the years. Tony had the bracelets to call the suit if needed, Steve had the shield waiting at the gala in a closet, Clint had his foldable bow with arrows stored next to Steve’s shield, Thor was always able to call Mjolnir, and Phil and Natasha were strapped with handguns and knives.

Tony grinned, waving at a couple of photographers happily. "By being a sweet, sensitive artist who throws a disc at nazis and aliens," he answered without missing a beat. Steve’s resulting laugh sounded musical to his ears. He felt like he was walking on air tonight. This was their first formal public event since the engagement, and though they’d of course gone on dates and missions together since, he felt like this was his first real opportunity to show off his fiancé. There was a slightly bitter thought in the back of his mind that he’d like to see Howard’s stupid face when he found out his beloved perfect Steve was marrying his failure son Tony, but he easily pushed it away. Steve was going to marry him, had announced it publicly, his life was perfect.

When they arrived and stepped out of the limo, there were not only photographers, but reporters too. They stopped off to one side to answer a few questions before they got in.

"Captain America, what do you say to the family values activists who say you’ve gone over to the dark side and should be stripped of your title?" A woman from the back shouted.

Steve took it in stride. Tony had been practicing with him for months, so he’d be prepared for far worse questions than this. "I say that I am sorry they are so frightened by what they don’t understand. Just because a man loving another man is different than their own love lives does not make their idea of a family more valid than LGBTQ+ families, and their self-appointed cause of family values is a misguided bigotry."

Tony was so proud. "Do you honestly think they’re afraid of gays or is it maybe that they just hate them?" A man nearby asked. Tony leaned over to whisper in Steve’s ear that it was Ian Gerund, a reporter for _Out Magazine_.

Steve looked the man in the eyes the whole time he responded, which obviously made the man a little uncomfortable. Reporters were not used to such directness with their shouted questions, as Tony had warned him. "I do honestly think that. I also think there is some genuine hate out there. Hate often stems from fear, though, and as Marian Anderson, one of my favourite singers said, ‘Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man inhuman.’ Our only hope is to continue to meet hate and fear with love and acceptance, but defend ourselves when attacked."

The reporters nearby had clearly not been prepared for such well thought out responses, and there was a small wave of confusion. "Mr. Stark! Are you really ready to be sexually exclusive with one person ‘til death do you part?"

Steve couldn’t help the painful tightening of his hand around Tony’s. The questions directed at them were so different and obviously judgmental about the two of them and it pissed him off. Everyone was prepared for Steve to be an innocent backwards old man and for Tony to be a promiscuous conniving bastard. Tony, on the other hand, was used to it. He shot the offending reporter a wicked grin. "Oh, Steve is plenty sexually fulfilling to me, sweet-cheeks. Sorry you missed out on your opportunity," he finished with a wink. Steve thought that was a perfect time to leave.

"Sorry folks, we have people to see and dances to dance," Steve said, strained. He tugged on Tony’s hand, but the man had no qualms about following anyway. He hated talking to reporters as much as Steve did. He just hid it better.

"You did so well, babe." He pulled Steve’s hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles. "Proud of you."

Steve smiled at him, but his eyes were a little pinched. "Yeah, thanks for the practice."

"I know, love. They’ll eventually stop treating you like that. It’s just hard for some people to recognize that not everyone in the 40s was straight and hated gays," Tony spoke quietly, misunderstanding the reason for the distress.

Steve kissed him, which conveniently gave him the excuse to be right at Tony’s eye level as he said, "I could care less how they treat me. It’s how they treat you like an amoral, selfish party-boy who is going to cheat on me first chance he gets."

"That’s because I was for a long time," Tony reminded him. Steve didn’t have a chance to respond before the greetings and small talk of the night began.

"Mr. Stark! Captain Rogers! So good to see you." Steve didn’t recognize the man, though Tony seemed to. Sometimes it seemed to Steve that Tony knew everyone in New York, though. "It really is a lovely event."

"Lieutenant Germaine, thank you for coming. I don’t believe you two have actually met, this is Captain Steve Rogers, my fiancé," he used the title feeling giddy. "Steve, this is Lt. Frances Germaine. We met while I was working on the Stylus project, right?"

Lt. Germaine nodded. "You were showing us your new remote controls for a drone that allowed more precise aim and birdseye view so there’d be less accidental civilian casualties," he reminded Tony.

"Ah yes, hope that worked out," Tony remarked. "It was a little before Afghanistan when I was still designing while wasted so," he shrugged with his most self-deprecating smile.

Steve frowned at Tony, but Germaine gave a knowing chuckle. "It saved numerous lives from unnecessary accidents, I assure you," he placed a comforting hand on the genius’ shoulder. "You really weren’t the devil people made you out to be, y’know. The wake up call about SI accountability and double-dealing was important, but you should cut yourself some slack. Even as a kid you were doing good work."

Tony gave a strained smile. "Thanks, Lieutenant. I hope you enjoy the party."

The man caught on to the dismissal. "Nice to meet you, Captain." They shook hands and he departed. Tony snagged a three drinks off a roaming tray and handed one to Steve. He drained one, placing it back on the tray, and kept the other.

Before Steve could comment on the conversation that had just happened, he heard the familiar gleeful squeal of Janet. "Oh, boys, you look fabulous! Give me a little spin," she motioned. They obeyed, laughing. "Yes! Perfect! The coattails had me worried there for you Cap, your proportions are wonky. Didn’t want them to look too short. Oh! Tony, darling, I haven’t seen the ring in person, gimme," she held out her hand expectantly.

Tony was laughing and enjoying himself again, previous conversation with the Lieutenant long forgotten. He handed the ring over and the two started gushing about Steve’s taste. Steve was still thinking about the previous conversation, so he was a little startled when the two of them were looking at him expectantly. "Huh? What?"

Janet burst out laughing. "I asked you how long it took you to make the ring?"

Steve blushed, embarrassed. "Oh, only like a week after I found the right stone."

"So how long before that have you been planning to ask me?" Tony asked, hand on his hip. He only got even sassier around Janet. The two together could be a nightmare sometimes. When Tony, Janet, and Clint were all three in a room, one’s only hope was to flee before you got caught in their whirlwind.

"Two years?" Steve answered hesitantly.

"That was before we had even started dating!!!" Tony exclaimed.

Steve scratched at the back of his head, not having a good response for this. He had kind of been hoping it would never cross Tony’s mind to ask. "Yeah, I may have been in love with you and overly optimistic for a long time before we confessed to each other," he attempted to explain.

"That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard," Janet remarked. Tony just looked at him with wide eyes, feeling like he was falling in love with Steve all over again. This man was far better than he could have ever dreamed.

"I’m so sorry, Janet, your outfits are lovely and we need to get together soon and catch up," Tony started without looking away from Steve, "but I need to take this man to the dancefloor, _now_."

" Of course, I understand," Janet responded too seriously. "Get on with it!" She faux whispered to Steve while he was led away by Tony.

They danced to a song Steve didn’t recognize, but it hardly mattered. He only had eyes for Tony and followed the man’s lead. Tony had been taught to dance when he was three and it more than made up for Steve’s two left feet. Tony finished his drink so he could use two hands again, placing it on the passing waiter’s tray. He frowned at Steve’s untouched drink before snatching it, draining it, and also placing it on said waiter’s tray. The waiter scowled before he walked away. Had that been the same one as before?

"You’ve had three drinks already and this is only our first dance," Steve remarked lightly. He wasn’t worried. Tony hadn’t gotten too drunk since they’d gotten engaged. The genius seemed to only get past buzzed when he was upset or depressed.

Tony waved him off. "Three drinks is nothing for me, you know that," he smiled brightly. He wasn’t wrong. Tony often didn’t feel anything until the fifth drink depending on the strength, and these were just glasses of champagne. He typically drank straight liquor. "I wish they’d play something slower," he said casually, pulling Steve into him.

It was like it was planned, and maybe it was, Steve thought. This was a SI organized party afterall. The music shifted to a slow song, and it took Steve a until the vocals to realize it was. "Is this-?" he felt at a loss for words. He had never mentioned his love for Marian Anderson before.

Tony’s lips quirked sideways, a cross between a smile and a nervous squint. "_Solitude,_ or _The Jewish Girl’s Song_ as performed by Marian Anderson? Yes."

Steve felt his eyes well up with tears. "How did you know?" He asked softly. Tony was up against him, head resting against Steve’s chest as they slowly danced to the movement of Marian’s voice. The orchestral part didn’t move much, so it made more sense to set one’s movements to the woman’s emotional performance. Tony waited until the song finished to answer Steve’s question. Steve vaguely realized that the rest of the large ballroom was full of people confused by the sudden change in language and style, but it didn’t matter. They’d get over it when the regular modern music returned.

"Well, I may have been playing different artists in the background when you’re around and gauging your reactions with JARVIS’ help. We eventually narrowed down your best unconscious smiles to music that style-wise and time period led to Marian Anderson, so I figured she must be one of your faves, and then you quoted her outside and I’m so glad I wasn’t wrong, because sometimes it’s hard to figure out what you liked from your old life and-" the man was rambling nervously, and they both knew it.

Steve placed a finger to his lips, silencing the man. "Everytime I think you’re done surprising me," he murmured. "You blow away my expectations again."

Tony absolutely beamed at him. It had been a very long and difficult project, trying to figure out some of Steve’s interests. The man was so easygoing and not picky sometimes that it was impossible to tell what he actually liked and what he just didn’t mind. Tony wished Steve was a little more outspoken, but he also appreciated the little mysteries he had to work to solve about Steve. It kept the man interesting. His next project was trying to figure out the supersoldier’s favourite painters and art styles for a wedding portrait, but that was still a secret. "I’m so glad you like it. I bought the film for the original recording of her performance at the Lincoln Memorial," Tony was actually blushing a little. He very rarely blushed. His olive italian complexion made it harder to show than Steve’s pale irish white, but he also didn’t have much shame anyway.

Steve gasped in surprise, pulling Tony into him and holding on tight for a moment. The mention thrust him back to 1939 when the historic performance had been the talk of the nation. Marian had been such a big deal, paving the way for African American singers, and she got to sing at the Lincoln Memorial. Steve’s mother had followed the woman’s career closely, always reminding Steve that until the blacks were treated right, the immigrants had no hope. She had died only months before the Lincoln Memorial performance. "Thank you," he whispered.

The rest of the night seemed to be going by in the background. Steve just followed his partner’s lead, making small talk here and there, dancing, clapping, showing off their relationship, etc. Something at the back of his mind was bothering him, but he couldn’t quite place it, so he pushed it aside and focused on Tony. The billionaire was in his element, as much as he was loathe to admit it. Tony Stark was a socialite as well as a shut-in engineer. Tony liked to convince himself that the rich celebrity persona was all a facade, and a lot of it was, but Steve could tell that the man also felt at home at these events sometimes. Now if the world worked Tony’s way, there’d only be one or two events a year, but if all of them suddenly disappeared, Steve thought Tony would probably miss it more than he expected.

It was when Tony placed his sixth empty champagne glass on a tray behind him that Steve realized what was bothering him. Out of the thirty or so roaming servers in the room, the same one always seemed to gravitate towards them. Tony had only come in contact with the one waiter, though he probably didn’t notice at all. At first, it could’ve been explained away by the staff having assigned areas of the room. By now, though, Steve and Tony had been all over the large hall, Tony being one of the main draws of the event. They had to talk to all the big SI contributors.

Tony’s energy had been flagging over the last hour. He had gone from looking excited and flamboyant to looking tired and withdrawn. Steve caught him wiping a sweaty brow a few times, but until now, had only assumed it was due to the running around in a tux in a fairly hot room. No one else seemed to be sweating though. "Hey, wait up!" Steve called out, jogging after the man until he caught up with the waiter. Tony watched him go in confusion, but stayed where he was, not wanting to seem rude while he was still trapped in conversation with one of the major shareholders in his company.

The waiter turned to face Steve, mild surprise on his face. He looked so nondescript. An average height white male, light brown hair, probably middle aged. It was a wonder Steve had recognized him as familiar at all. That was one of Phil’s assets as a SHIELD agent, looking nondescript. Steve idly wondered if being around nondescript agents enough to get to know them helped him be better at picking up on nuances within the average appearance. The man smiled politely. "May I help you with something, Captain Rogers?"

Steve watched his expressions carefully. If there was anything suspicious about the man, he was good at hiding it. "Have you been following us?" he asked right out.

The waiter’s face showed a split-second of surprise before returning to the polite smile. Steve probably wouldn’t have caught it if it weren’t for Natasha’s training in microexpressions. "I’m sorry?" he pretended to be confused. "I’m not sure what you mean."

Steve didn’t know what set off his alarm bells, but he was sure enough of himself to be okay with making a scene. He snatched the tray from the man’s hands and placed it on a nearby table. People close by started watching the strange exchange. Steve then grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it painfully behind his back. "Don’t play stupid." He hissed into the man’s ear.

A hysterical giggle tumbled from the waiter’s lips. "Your observational skills are as impressive as I expected," the man responded smugly. "I only worry it took you too long." He didn’t sound worried at all. Steve decided then and there that he hated the smug bastard.

Slamming the man onto the same nearby table where he hat set the tray, Steve sent several glasses flying off the table or rolling and smashing loudly on the ground. A woman somewhere screamed. "What did you do?" he demanded.

"Steve! What are you doing!?" Tony was marching towards them with two guards.

Steve took a steadying breath through his nose. "This man did something, Tony, I just don’t know what," Steve grit out angrily. The man smirked at Steve. He was asking to get his nose broken.

Tony just looked more confused and irritated. "What are you talking about? Let the man go, Steve." Tony placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. "I don’t know what’s going on, but if this guy did do something, let security handle it."

Steve looked back and forth between the smug bastard and his love, ignoring the awkward silence that had descended on the party while the drama unfolded. Tony was right, he didn’t know what had gotten into him. He stood, pushing the waiter towards one of the guards, who caught the stumbling man easily and pinned his arms behind his back. "I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me," he murmured, head down. He had almost certainly ruined the party, and had definitely embarrassed Tony in front of the business world.

When Tony didn’t respond, he raised his head so he could see the man’s expression. He was beginning to look very pale, and a bead of sweat ran down the un-masked side of his face. It seemed like a weird time for Steve to notice that they had never removed their masks like Tony said he normally did, but Steve’s mind was all over the place. He stepped towards the man, "Tony?"

"It’s about time it kicked in," the smug asshole called out, and Tony turned slowly towards him, looking shocked and confused.

"Wha?" Tony stepped towards him but stumbled, and Steve had to lunge to catch him.

"Tony!"

Everyone was watching the scene unfold. Tony was in his arms looking dazed, breathing too quickly. Steve looked back at the asshole, and when they met eyes the man spoke again. "He was the problem, see? Now you can be Captain America again, unsoiled!" There was a mad glint to the man’s eyes. The guard holding him began dragging him away so they could question him in private. Pepper was approaching from the other direction with medics on either side of her.

Steve looked down again, terror beginning to take its icy hold on his heart. "Tony? Sweetheart?"

Tony looked up at him, scared himself. "Steve? I-" he shuddered in Steve’s arms. "I don’t feel well."

"It’s going to be okay," he tried to sound convincing as he laid the man on the ground for the medics to take over and examine. He stayed as close as he could so Tony could still see him. It was clear that panic was starting to take over for Tony though, and he reached out for Steve. His chest was heaving visibly.

Steve grabbed one of the glasses he knew Tony had drank from, more thankful than he’d ever been for his eidetic memory. "Whatever it is, it’ll be on this," he showed the medic who wasn’t currently taking Tony’s pulse.

"Good, bring it with you," the medic commanded. "We gotta go, now."

Another two had arrived with a stretcher and they were lifting Tony onto it. Steve followed beside them, holding Tony’s outstretched hand. Tony looked like he was about to say something, but instead cried out in pain and clutched at his abdomen. His breathing remained labored all the way to the helicopter, where it stopped altogether. Steve was gently pushed into a seat while they started manually inflating Tony’s lungs, and Steve’s world was spinning. Tony was writhing in pain, still semi-conscious and all Steve could do was watch helplessly. When they landed at the hospital, Steve tried to stand and follow, but his knees locked in place and he was so dizzy.

A nurse was there at his side, and when had he laid down on the ground. "Hey, you’re okay, it’s just emotional shock. Let’s get you a blanket and some water, okay?" The man in scrubs said. Steve nodded, allowing the man to help him into shaky legs.

"Tony?" he asked, hoping the guy new what he meant.

Thankfully, he did. "You fiancé is being taken care of right now. Thankfully, we were able to determine the poison pretty quickly with his symptoms and the residue on the glass. We’re starting him on chelation. As long as he holds out a little longer, he’ll make a full recovery."

_As long as he holds out_ is what stuck in Steve’s mind. So there was still a chance Tony could die. " I need to be there," he ground out, lurching forward from the chair he had been sat in.

"Hey," the nurse caught his arm. "Okay, okay, let me take you there."

Steve let him lead the way, and they were to Tony’s bed where an IV was still being put in his arm, and the man was already intubated. Steve collapsed unceremoniously into the seat beside Tony opposite to the side the nurse was on, grabbing Tony’s hand. He squeezed just tight enough to let Tony know he was there, that Tony had to pull through. The words he had spoken earlier that night were running through his head on repeat and he felt sick. _Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man inhuman._

How could someone do something like this to someone like Tony? All in the name of him being Captain America, ‘unsoiled’? The idea of Steve being with another man was so frightful to someone that they’d poison Iron Man just to stop it? It was completely illogical and crazy, but that was the point. Steve was terrified in this very moment, and it was coupled with a rage and illogical desire to beat the waiter to death. Such violence wouldn’t help Tony survive, and it would do zero good for the world, but the idea of it alone helped assuage some of Steve’s fear. Fear could truly turn the gentlest of men to inhumane acts. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise to Steve, he had already seen it played out in the war, but the shock of it was real everytime he faced that reality. Tony would be okay, he had to be, but Steve would be haunted by this forever.


	14. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Clint have a yearly competition in October to see who can get the other to scream first. They called their schemes pranks, but Steve thought they bordered on cruel torture sometimes. If only the two would put this much energy into plans against enemies. Sure, Tony was a sore loser after losing the last three years, but it was really Clint's fault for being such a sore winner, okay? Tony was out for blood this year. Revenge for his losing streak would be oh so sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure crack. I like Clint being smarter than he lets everyone think but he only lets it show when there's a competition at stake. Tony gets slightly angsty for a hot second in the middle, because Howard is an ass, but really he's just sleep deprived and worried he doesn't really know his friends. He'll be fine.

Clint and Tony had a Halloween tradition. Every year, they attempted to pull a prank that got the other to scream. The first of October all the way through the 31st was all fair game. Whoever screamed first lost. To make things fair, Tony always let Clint have full access to his credit cards and JARVIS kept their plans from each other equally. Last year, Clint had got Tony good. Tony tried to blame it on being sleep deprived, but they all knew the truth. Clint had used Tony’s high-pitched scream as a ringtone for months. In fact, Clint had won three years in a row now.

This year, it was time for Tony’s revenge. He was going to make Clint have nightmares with his prank. Everyone but Thor was on his side this time, or at least they claimed to be. It was common for one of the other Avengers to double-cross the pranksters in the October games. To make sure he wasn’t screwed over by a last minute double cross, Tony had told them all one plan, but had a different plan going on his own as backup. He’d be lying if he said he put any faith at all in the plan that included the others. Trusting Natasha or Phil to work against Clint would be stupid of him, although Phil always claimed to be staying out of it.

So as far as his co-conspirators knew, the plan was to feed Clint a drug laced pumpkin pie, then when he was tripping, scare the shit out of him with an air horn and strobe lights (in case Clint wasn’t wearing his hearing aids). It was nice and simple. Clint usually ate a whole pie himself, so it wasn’t even unusual to make several different pies. When the rest of them were eating pie around him, it would hopefully help the archer disregard any suspicion.

The real plan, as Tony was calling it in his head, was much more complicated. Tony had started planning it in April. It hinged entirely on how observant Clint was. Tony knew the man was acutely aware of even the most useless details of his everyday life the same way Natasha and Phil were. He figured it must be a habit one picks up at SHIELD. So back six months ago, Tony began making sure the tower was only stocked with the same toothpaste brand every time. If someone went shopping on their own and bought the wrong brand, Tony replaced it with the correct one.

Which leads into October. At midnight last night, Tony replaced all toothpaste in the tower with a different brand. Clint would naturally be suspicious, and instead of risking it, he’d go to his emergency disappearance bag that he thought Tony didn’t know about. It was honestly silly that anyone in the tower thought they could own something and Tony wouldn’t know about it. His personal AI ran the tower! Natasha had her own bag as well. They were well stocked with everything one might need if they suddenly needed to go off the grid. It was a good idea to have, and finding Clint’s had made him consider packing his own. He decided against it, deciding that he would be useless without being able to use any traceable tech, so going off grid would never be an option for him. Plus, he was much harder to disguise than Clint or Natasha. His face had been in the news his whole life.

So when Clint this morning went to brush his teeth, the plan was for him to go get his bag out of its hiding spot in the vents. What Clint didn’t know was that Tony had placed a trap for him there, that was motion sensitive. Clint wouldn’t know what hit him when the flex cage Tony had designed suddenly wraps around his body. If he managed to not scream as he was trapped, there was still more to the plan. Clint was afraid of spiders. It was a weakness Tony hadn’t taken advantage of in previous years because it felt like cheating, but after last year’s loss where Clint had used his fear of water against him, Tony was finished with mercy. The archer thought he hid the fear well, but he tensed up ever so slightly at the sight of a spider, and Tony had found footage from a CCTV camera outside a grocery store that showed the man screaming and freaking out when a spider landed on his arm. If Clint didn’t scream from the trap, Tony could activate a small door built into the wall of the vent where several spiders were currently very crowded in a tiny space. They would crawl out any chance they got.

Tony now sat one room over from the vent he knew Clint would go to. He smiled when he heard the archer shuffle through the hallway towards the room. This was going to be epic. Tony heard Clint move the furniture covering the vent out of the way and pull the metal grate off. It would be any minute now.

The unmistakable sound of the flex cage bounding around someone was loud enough through the wall and Tony held his breath. All that accompanied the sound was a muffled "mph!" from the archer. Tony sighed. Time for plan B. He tapped the small icon on his phone that would activate the spiders. This had to work, it was full proof!

Nothing. Tony wanted to pull his hair out. He didn’t even hear an ‘ew’! Not a single reaction out of his victim. Right, there was no choice but to investigate what had gone wrong. At least the pie plan would still happen next week. There was time to come up with more schemes before time was up. Tony crept around the corner, peering into the library. From the doorway, he could see Clint’s feet with his stupid purple socks, but not the rest of his prone body. The room was silent. Tony jumped into the room, maybe he’d get lucky and startle Clint himself.

"What the-" the genius growled. The flex cage had apparently attacked a lamp. A lamp that was somehow attached to faux feet covered in purple socks. How the fuck had the man seen through his plan? Or avoided the spiders? Even though Clint clearly set off the trap on purpose with the lamp, the spiders should still have frightened him. Where was the birdbrain anyway?

An air horn sounded just behind him and to the right. Tony couldn’t possibly have been ready to stifle his startled scream. "Hnyaaargh!" He flailed around stupidly before he fell on his ass.

Standing above him, smirking, was Clint. "How!?" Tony yelled. "You’re impossible!"

Clint, the rotten bastard, didn’t answer him. He merely held up his cell phone and pressed play. Tony could see himself scram and fall on the tiny screen. "I win again!" Clint sang happily. He left the room shouting "We are the champions, my friends," to the tower, effectively waking up any Avenger who wasn’t already up. Tony just remained sitting on the floor, gaping at the doorway where Clint had left.

"JARVIS, what the hell just happened?"

"I believe you just lost for the fourth year in a row, sir," JARVIS sounded pitying. Tony picked up the lamp that was wrapped in his stupid invention, a rubbery self adhesive that sought heat so it’d curve around bodies to get to their body-heat, the ‘flex cage’ he had been so proud of only moments ago. He hurled the lamp across the room, where it shattered against the wall. He had been so certain of his revenge this year! Then he had been taken down by an air horn. What kind of a genius couldn’t out plan Clint Barton?

The sound of shattering porcelain and glass brought Steve running there. "Tony! Are you okay?" Steve looked at the scene in the library. The confusion slid away after a moment. "Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I really thought you had it this year."

Tony let his boyfriend help him up but dodged the pity hug. He didn’t feel like getting Steve’s comfort right now. "Yeah, me too," his voice monotone. This was a stupid contest, he shouldn’t be this upset about it. Stupid Tony Stark being oversensitive when he loses a stupid game because his plans are stupid. And the world called him a genius? Boy, had he fooled everyone. He was never going to get revenge on Clint.

Steve followed the man silently to the kitchen. His frown deepened when Tony poured some Bailey’s in his coffee at six in the morning. "Tony," he tried gently, but his mouth snapped shut when Tony shot him a vicious glare.

"Don’t," Tony bit out. "It’s just a game, I’m fine." He downed the drink, made another, and quickly drank it as well. He kept the third mug full alcohol-free, and waltzed past the worried blond to go to his lab. He could feel Steve following him like a shadow, but ignored the man. Maybe he would just give up and go away.

Tony had no such luck. Steve was nearly as stubborn as he was. "When did you start drinking in the morning?" Steve finally broke the tense silence fifteen minutes later.

Tony ground his teeth and closed the file he was working out. "Don’t read too much into it, it was just a little something to take the edge off." Tony forced his voice to sound more calm with each word. "Plus, I didn’t sleep last night, so it’s basically not even morning for me." Tony threw him a Stark patent smirk to complete the effect.

Steve gave up. "Fine, let me know if you feel like being honest again," he snapped. Tony watched him leave with a perverse satisfaction. At least he always succeeded at pushing people who wanted to help away. It was his best talent.

"JARVIS, pull up the footage of the library from when Clint entered this morning." Tony watched as the archer lightly pushed the lamp into the vent, standing back when the trap activated. Then he saw the archer reach in and pull his arm out with a smile, looking at the crawling black dots on his arm. Before Tony saw himself walk in, Clint gently brushed off the spiders, and walked over to hide beside the doorway.

The man wasn’t even afraid of spiders! What the actual fuck!? He swept the screen away with a scowl. Maybe Clint had fooled them all. He was actually more of a genius than Tony and just played a dimmer character all these years. If Clint was actually a genius, the only use Tony really was was his money. "I just wanted revenge! Is that too much to ask?" He asked the silent lab.

"Apparently so," JARVIS answered him sarcastically. Tony should never have given him an attitude.

"Shut up, JARVIS." Tony felt like his head was splitting open, and he bent over, holding it between his legs. "I don’t even know my own friends," he told himself miserably. He could hear Howard in his head reminding him how much he sucked. _No one will ever actually like you. They will pretend so they can use you, sure, but who could like that?_ He would say, gesturing at all of Tony with a look of disgust on his face. God, Tony was pathetic. He still let his dead father ruin things and effect his reactions to silly pranks after all these years.

Tony heard the lab open, but had no interest in lifting his head off his work table to see the intruder. "What," he asked tiredly. Clint invaded his vision, appearing beside him on the bench. Tony sighed, sitting up. "Come to gloat?"

"Nope," Clint made a loud pop on the ‘p’ sound. "Came to tell you the plan was actually brilliant. You totally would’ve got me if I hadn’t been faking arachnophobia for the last ten years of my life. I was waiting for it to finally pay off, so thanks for that." He grinned at Tony.

Faking arachnophobia? Clint hadn’t been trying to hide his reactions to spiders, he had been pretending to hide a fake reaction. He screamed and reacted even when alone just to be sure. It was the most intense double-bluff Tony had ever seen. "But why?" he blurted out. It was utterly insane. Of course Tony hadn’t thought of that! The fake phobia had been going on before they had even started the prank competitions. He suddenly felt much better about the whole thing. His observation skills and planning wasn’t at fault, Clint was just insane.

Clint shrugged. "Needed a long con to keep me entertained." He met Tony’s horrified gaze. "Wonder what con will play out next," he teased.

"Do we even know you?"

Clint laughed like an evil madman. "Does anyone really know anyone?" he asked like some sphinx in a story. He dodged the wrench Tony threw at him as he continued his loud cackling and left the lab. Tony’s thirst for revenge was completely rekindled. He was going to start planning for next year right now.


	15. Basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is living in the basement. The problem was, Tony couldn’t figure out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something spooky and mysterious is below the tower. What will Tony do? Will he investigate with a team like a genius would know is logical? Or will he go down on his own like the idiot we all know he can be?

Something is living in the basement. The problem was, Tony couldn’t figure out what. The tower’s basement was just one large room housing the giant arc reactor that powered it, and Tony’s emergency backup arc reactors. No one could even access the basement without being Tony. JARVIS had bio scanners and everything. So how in the world was something living in the basement? "You’re sure there’s a heat signature down there JARVIS? It’s not a misplaced bot or something?" The basement didn’t even have cameras, that’s how sure Tony was of its security. JARVIS was able to use infrared down there, but it had seemed like a waste of power to have full camera capabilities down there when only Tony could access it.

"I am admittedly unsure," JARVIS answered. "All I can say for certain is that there is a heat signature that resembles a human, moves around, and has been present for two nights now."

Tony watched the diagram as the red dot moved around, indicating where JARVIS was ‘seeing’ the signature in the basement. "But how did it get down there?" Tony asked.

"Again, I am unsure," JARVIS answered, dejected. It had been mostly rhetorical anyway.

"Well, I suppose it’s time to investigate for myself then." Tony stretched before he called the suit. Better safe than sorry if it was someone dangerous.

"Might I suggest you tell the others before going down on your own?" his AI asked, not subtle at all in his judgement of Tony’s plan.

Tony rolled his eyes. Nothing dangerous could be down there. What would it even be living off of anyway? It had not left since appearing, according to JARVIS, and there was nothing down there as a water or food source. "Look, if you lose contact with me, then you can bother the others. It’ll be fine, J. The others need to rest after yesterday." There had been a big battle with AIM yesterday morning, followed immediately by an attack on the west coast by Hydra. They had all come home exhausted.

"And I suppose you’re immune to the need for rest, sir?" the AI responded sarcastically. "May I be so bold as to-"

"No you may not."

JARVIS continued talking right over Tony entirely, volume easily louder than Tony, "point out that every time you say ‘it’ll be fine’ things go horribly wrong?"

Tony was beginning to regret letting JARVIS have free reign to give advice. He used to only be allowed to give advice when asked, but Tony had removed the restrictions recently. It turns out that the AI has a lot of ideas about how Tony ran his life that he’d been silent on until now. "Whelp, let’s hope it’s not one of those times!" he answered cheerily, heading for the elevator.

Tony hadn’t been to the basement in awhile. The temperature was chilly down here, kept cold to help the arc reactor avoid overheating. It was the first of its kind to power an entire building, and Tony was cautious with it. As long as he could safely say that the reactor had been powering his home with self-sustaining energy for five years straight, then he may be able to convince the world to switch to the cleaner energy source. Of course, that also required Tony to trust the world not to weaponize it, but that was a bridge to pass later.

The armour’s clanky steps echoed around in the large chamber. Tony took a few steps off the elevator and called out, "Hello? Anybody home?" He felt a little like an idiot, yelling into an empty room. There was no response, so Tony continued on, but stayed on high alert. Figuring he may as well check on everything while he was down here, he did a cursory check of the main reactor. Power levels were down a little, though that could be natural decrease in the reactor’s third year in a row. The element inside could not last forever, considering that the energy it created came from the decay of said element. It still didn’t have a name. The patent office just flat out refused, even under threat of lawsuit, to let him call it Badassium.

As he drew closer to the crates of his back up smaller reactors, he noticed that both lids were torn off and left on the ground beside them. He hurried his steps. If the reactors had been stolen, they were all in a world of trouble. "JARVIS, keep an eye out for trouble," Tony murmured.

"Always, sir."

What he found was somehow worse than the reactors being stolen. Both crates were still full, minus the three reactors he had used since bringing the crates over from Malibu. But they could hardly be called reactors at this point. They were all dark, completely drained of any energy. They looked like empty husks. It was eerily similar to finding a pile of dead insects. Tony found it creepy, even though neither the insects, or the inanimate objects, were ever intelligent creatures. Not to mention, that this meant something was definitely wrong down here. What could have done this?

"Hello!" Tony shouted again, stepping away from the crates and slowly continuing his circle around the main reactor. "I know you’re out there," he tried changing tactics.

One corner of the room was much darker than the rest. All the ceiling lights near were burnt out, and the reactor’s aura was the only thing shining into the darkness. Tony held one gauntlet up, repulsor at the ready. That was when the smell hit him. "JARVIS, can you analyze the air? It smells like…" he tried to place it. It wasn’t pleasant by any means, but it wasn’t something he’d call a stench. "Blood and gauze?"

"The suit’s sensors cannot make much out of such a small concentration in the air. Apologies, Sir."

Tony stopped walking and just listened. It sounded faintly like their might be breathing in the darkness, but he couldn’t be sure. It was definitely where the heat signature was coming from. Tony flipped his vision from infrared to night. With that he could make out a humanoid shape slumped against the wall in the corner, but no more detail than that. It looked like it may be unconscious, and along with the smell Tony was beginning to suspect it was injured.

He walked closer, lighting up the dark corner with his gauntlet. Now that he could see, it was definitely injured. The person, Tony decided, looked like an adult male humanoid, though in the repulsor’s light it was hard to tell if the skin was just sickly pale or a grey colour. He certainly had red blood with the way he had dried gashes and bloody bandages all over his body. "Hey," Tony tried gently. The man stirred, but did not awaken. "I promise I mean you no harm." He kept reiterating that he was not there to hurt the man as he got close enough to touch him. The last thing he wanted was for the injured man to wake up and hurt himself in a panic trying to defend himself.

Turns out Tony should’ve been worried about himself instead of the man. As soon as Tony’s hand touched his shoulder to wake him, the stranger sat up, wide-eyed, gripping the armour’s wrist with enough strength to dent it. The alarms in the suit were immediate. "Sir, the suit’s power is being drained." There was no choice but to retract the suit as quickly as possible before whatever power this man had began draining Tony’s reactor. The suit was completely drained by the time Tony was free of it.

"Hey, if you need energy, I can help you, just don’t hurt me." Tony had jumped backwards, just out of reach of the stranger. Whatever the man had done, he was clearly more healed than he had been a moment prior. If draining energy from tech helped him heal faster, Tony couldn’t quite blame the man for using up the arc reactors, especially with how injured he must’ve been when he appeared there. The question remained as to whether this man had come on purpose, or even knew where he was. It was very possible that he had merely teleported to the best spot for sources of energy.

The stranger looked at him curiously, but unfortunately showed no recognition of what Tony had said. There went the hope of the man knowing English. It was clear, now, that the man was not Terran. He resembled Terrans well enough to be mistaken for one, but with his eyes open, Tony could tell better that the skull shape was slightly different. The eyes were further up away from the mouth, the mouth was wider, the cheek bones were more steeply tilted, and it moved it’s head in a jilted manner that was very alien. The stranger reached out towards Tony.

He looked so pathetic and in need of help, that Tony felt he had to reach out. They could maybe get him to SHIELD medical and find some way to communicate. He didn’t seem malicious, just in need. Glad that JARVIS had to have told the others about the lost contact by now and would let them in the basement, Tony decided to take the risk and grasp the stranger’s hand to help him up.

The effect wasn’t immediate. Tony had figured at first that he had made the right choice to be nice, because the stranger stood with his help and placed a hand on his shoulder in a friendly-seeming gesture. The man’s smile was creepy because of the width of it, but Tony had met aliens before. Maybe this species would think Tony’s small mouth was creepy. "See? Let’s get you somewhere safer," Tony started gently. Even if the man couldn’t understand him, he might be able to glean general intent from tone.

Tony turned to lead the way, but the room spun as he turned. Suddenly weak, he dropped to his knees. He turned back to look at the man, who was crouching now to keep a hand on Tony. "No, please, don’t" Tony felt like each word took an eternity to form. He felt like he weighed a ton, and now he was lying prone. He could feel the arc reactor slowing its cycles, and the panic gave him the burst of energy to reach up and try to knock away the man’s hand.

Tony was far too weak for the motion to have any effect besides tiring him more. He looked down himself at the reactor’s light flickering. It came back dimmer each time, and he knew it would give out soon. The offending hand moved from Tony’s shoulder to directly on top of the reactor, and Tony could actually see the light being sucked into the man’s hand. All of the back up reactors were already drained. Tony was going to die down here. He should’ve listened to JARVIS. He just never suspected any danger in his own basement.

The reactor was finished, drained of power. The pins and needles sensation in his chest was harsh, and he gasped with the sharp pain of the shrapnel moving. He was vaguely aware of the stranger’s hand still there on his chest. His heart was stuttering and he felt out of breath, and the effect was happening quicker than usual with a reactor failure. Tony could only assume he was still somehow stealing life energy. The sound of shouting somewhere behind him felt unreal, and Tony couldn’t make out the voice or words, anyway, with how loud his own struggling heart was in his ears. The blur of colour, probably Cap’t shield knocked the Stranger’s arm off of Tony. It was a little late though, and Tony felt a very distant acceptance that this might be it. He could barely suck in a breath for all the effort it took.

Steve’s face swam above him. "L-l-love y-you," he managed. It was so quiet that Steve only made it out with his enhanced hearing. He wished he could say more, apologize for being stupid and reckless. The sharp pain in his chest was getting unbearable now, and the pain became his focal point. It was all that was left that defined him. He had always known the shrapnel in his heart would kill him one day, but he had kind of hoped it’d come with more warning.

Steve’s hands were shaking as he finished turning the lock on his personal safe. He had known it was a good idea to have an extra reactor hidden separate from all of Tony’s backups, just in case something like this happened. Tony was too cocky about his own security. Keeping all of the backups in one place was asking for trouble. The glowing reactor looked like the Holy Grail to him just then. He was back at Tony’s side on the helipad in no time. The medics were loading him onto the chopper. Bruce had already removed the useless dead reactor, and the gaping hole in Tony’s chest was even more terrifying than the dark reactor. His lips were blue and his skin chalky white. Steve slammed the new one in, probably harder than necessary, twisting it just right for it to lock in place.

The resulting spark in Tony’s chest felt like a white hot poker that sent out a wave of vibrating heat. Tony could taste the familiar coconut in his mouth, but he was still too weak to breath and his heart was still beating irregularly. He couldn’t really feel the mask on his face as they started pumping air into his lungs for him. His chest still ached and all he could think was that the damage was already done. It didn’t matter that an extra reactor had miraculously appeared, the shrapnel was there, ripping him to tiny shreds. He was still conscious when they shocked him with the paddles, felt his body jerk with the jolt and his heartbeat return to a more normal rhythm. Without the focal point of pain in his chest to cling to anymore, Tony finally lost consciousness.

When Tony came to, it was after eighteen hours straight sleeping. He could breathe and move again, was no longer dying, but his body was so sore. He shifted with a groan, shakily sitting up a little in the hospital bed. When he forced his heavy eyelids open, Steve was right there to greet him. "Welcome back, babe."

"I’m not dead," was what he managed through his sore throat.

Steve’s mouth twitched into a smile for only a moment. "It was a very close thing."

There were so many questions running through Tony’s head, but he knew he was probably going to fall asleep again soon. Apparently having an alien suck out your body’s energy really took it out of you. "The guy?"

Steve sighed, glancing away before looking back at his love’s already drooping eyelids. "Alien we’re unfamiliar with. Jessica Drew could communicate with him. Apparently their species easily share energy across their bodies, and give it freely to injured persons. Since he used to people with so much more energy than a human body, he hadn’t realized until it was too late that it was killing you. I’m not sure I buy it, but the guy has been friendly and apologetic since."

Tony took the information in. He hadn’t really read the situation incorrectly, just hadn’t accounted for the ability to drain a body instead of just tech. The whole thing was just so bizarre and yet normal for his life, he felt a semi-hysterical giggle bubble out of him. Steve looked confused and a little worried. Tony was so tired. "Glad I could help," he breathed, not sure himself if it was genuine or a joke. Maybe it was a little of both. He let his eyes close and went back into the warmth of sleep. 


	16. Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started out as an alliance. Vlad Dracula had fought alongside Captain America as tentative allies when HYDRA took over Transylvania. The nazi organization took over _his_ domain. It was humiliating. He was the lord of all vampires and he had to work with humans to get rid of humans. When the war ended, the two allies parted ways, knowing the truce was finished.
> 
> Decades later, Dracula had new enemies and plans, and if Anthony Edward Stark and Steven Rogers had to die for those plans, so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's very late. I'm so sorry. Life got busier because I just started a new job at a comic book shop.
> 
> This particular chapter is my sequel to, and includes the plot of, _Blood Feud_ an episode of _Avengers Assemble_ in the first season. It can be construed as canon-compliant to that universe, but where it would fit in the timeline is probably murky. Definitely before Tony gets stuck in another dimension, but pretend he developed the Bleeding-Edge armor before.
> 
> Anyway, this is classic spooky vampire castle shit, so get in the horror-Halloween spirit!

It started out as an alliance. Vlad Dracula had fought alongside Captain America as tentative allies when HYDRA took over Transylvania. The nazi organization took over _his_ domain. It was humiliating. He was the lord of all vampires and he had to work with humans to get rid of humans. When the war ended, the two allies parted ways, knowing the truce was finished.

Dracula would be lying if he said he felt no gratitude to Steven Rogers. He would never admit such a thing out loud, of course, but he knew HYDRA would still be a thorn in his side without the man. Steve knew he had to be thankful to Dracula as well. Without him and his cabaal, the allied forces may not have defeated the fairly powerful Transylvanian faction of his sworn enemy. So when Red Skull approached the vampire king around seventy years later with his proposal to team up against the Avengers, he was understandably conflicted.

"Alone, none of us so-called villains could take down the Avengers, but together, we may yet have a chance," Schmidt reasoned. If Dracula could consider himself a fan of anything, it was reason. He was a scientist.

"But why would I have any interest in opposing the Avengers?" he asked, cleaning the dirt out from under his nails, bored.

Schmidt grimaced, or maybe smiled, Dracula couldn’t tell with his disgusting appearance. "Humans vastly outnumber your kind now, don’t they?" Dracula narrowed his eyes, waiting for the punchline. "The Avengers protect mankind, be it from me or from vampires. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and what-not." The Red Skull made a shoo motion with his hand, as though the motivations of their alliance were trivial. This arrogant human knew not who he messed with.

Dracula used only a sliver of his power to grow in stature and increase the foreboding in his aura. "Do you dare to make light of the ceaseless war between the _homines nocturnae_ and the _homosapiens_? I have known far more of mankind’s history than you could fathom." He sneered in disgust at the mortal insect. " I lead my people in the balancing act of preying on the weak humans without too quickly depleting our only means of survival. You only use your feeble mind to lead half-wits into battle against your own, with a cause that will last as long as a week as far as I am concerned."

Schmidt flinched, but to his credit, he didn’t back away. An angry Dracula was a scary sight. The Red Skull needed to change tactics, make this worth it for the vampire count. "My scientists have discovered that the supersoldier serum in Captain America’s blood should allow you to walk in the daylight unharmed."

"How could they possibly know that?" the vampire responded. He squinted at the German. There might be reason to ally with him after all. "What do you know of vampires?"

He watched Schmidt turn away from him. The man began pacing slowly, his hands behind his back. It reminded Dracula of what he used to do when deep in thought, back when he was human and felt a need to move about. That was a long time ago, and now he often sat still as a statue while he pondered existence. "Admittedly not much," Schmidt conceded, "but I do know a lot about the serum. We’ve been studying blood taken from a vampire and what happens when it is mixed with the Captain’s. The mutation to your kind’s blood cells that makes them vulnerable to UV rays repairs itself when in contact with the serum. That is all it repairs, you would remain a vampire."

The king of vampires felt the grin form on his face, his first smile in centuries. Red Skull did take a step back this time, the sight of the fanged grin on the ancient being’s face was unexpectedly terrifying. Schmidt thought he had stopped fearing most things the world had to offer. "It seems we have a common enemy," the voice rumbled with Dracula’s natural tone as well as the whispers of his minions all around the castle chamber.

…

When Steve ripped the mask off of his attacker, the shock of seeing a vampire’s familiar fangs almost sent him back to WWII. He certainly had never thought he’d see them again after HYDRA had been properly banished from Transylvania. "It can’t be!" He flung the creature off of him.

Behind them, the Hulk punched another, and it dissipated into a cloud of black smoke only to reform across the room. "They ain’t puny humans," he grumbled.

The shock was starting to wear off as another leapt for Steve. He knew how to handle these. "Iron Man, the tower has UV light frequencies built in, right?"

Tony eyed him from the suit, hovering above one of the hissing ninjas. At least that’s what they seemed to be to him. What in the world was Steve on about in the middle of an attack? "Yeah, but-"

"Fire them up!" Steve shouted before Tony could ask.

Well, he trusted the Cap. "Okay," Tony replied slowly, his eyes working the HUD display in the suit as he told JARVIS to turn on the UV lights in the gym. "Weird, but okay." To Steve’s credit, the ninjas did all seem afraid, and dissipated without reforming this time. Except the one. She let out a pained scream before hiding behind a pillar.

"What just happened?" A shocked Clint asked the room as a whole.

Steve needed to get to the bottom of this now. If Dracula was involved, this could get serious quickly. He had always been grateful not to be on the vampires’ bad side, even if he wasn’t quite on their good side (if they had one). "Vampires," was all he said, stepping forward to approach the only one left.

The armor thudded loudly as Tony dropped to the ground to watch Steve apparently lose his mind. "Uuhh… You gotta be kidding me," Clint voiced what Tony was thinking, too.

Steve thought he had been prepared as he approached the woman, but when her hood and masked pulled back to reveal Natasha, he realized he hadn’t been. She was gasping in pain, and he could see the newly forming fangs from where he stood in front of her. "Black Widow!?"

When Natasha opened her mouth, it wasn’t her voice that responded. "Good evening, Captain America." Steve was rooted to the spot. There was no mistaking that voice. Vlad Dracula was using his friend as a puppet. "It has been a long time." The collective gasps of the team were soft behind him. "I send this female with a message: I offer you her life in exchange for yours." Natasha arched in pain, before passing out into Steve’s arms.

"Tell me widow has a strange voice power I never knew about," Tony tried, his voice tinny with the face mask still down. He didn’t need the others to see his reactions anyway.

Steve really, really wished he could. "That was Dracula."

Sometimes Tony’s unwillingness to acknowledge the supernatural was too much for Steve. He didn’t blame them all for not buying the story immediately, although they had just seen plenty of proof, right? But Tony was pulling his usual magic is just science we don’t understand yet speech out, and it didn’t matter right now. As if to make Steve’s point for him Natasha suddenly awoke with a scream, flipping into the air and easily kicking their asses. Her already usually fast and fluid movements were faster now, and the supernatural aura about her was clear as day. How could the genius not see what was right in front of him?

Tony had to admit that this was starting to look like vampires. Natasha couldn’t see her reflection, she was enhanced in some way, the UV rays hurting her… But this? The fact that her mission she had been on was in Transylvania? It’s like the universe was playing a cruel prank on him. Bram Stoker wasn’t even Transylvanian! Transylvanians don’t even believe in vampires. Count Dracula, well Steve said not to call him a Count, was an Irish fiction. This had to be either his October bad luck, or a Clint make-Tony-scream prank.

"If there’s a way to cure Widow, I can do it here," the genius argued confidently. Science wouldn’t fail him.

The sparking sound behind him was the world spiting him. "Error, Sir," JARVIS voice doomed Tony. The scan of Natasha was messing with his AI now.

Steve was far too smug on the ride to Transylvania. Tony was not saying that vampires were magic, although Steve seemed to thing that in agreeing to go he was admitting defeat, but the scientist knew when he was outclassed in tech. Right now he needed to gather more data if he wanted to help Natasha, and that data was in Transylvania. His mind was racing with possibilities, maybe nanotech, as he listened to Steve explain his history with the vampires. He couldn’t believe in all of Howard’s tales of the war and the great Captain America, he had never mentioned this. Maybe he had been just as skeptical as Tony, and didn’t want to address it.

Steve knew how to handle Dracula. They had a rapport. So when Clint shot an arrow uselessly through the vampire, he was furious. The archer had ruined their chances of settling this peacefully with one thoughtless act. The vampires could be handled easily, Steve knew his way around them. He never would’ve been comfortable fighting beside them in the war if he hadn’t known how to defend himself should they betray the Howling Commandos. Dracula himself in a fight though? He wasn’t as sure they could handle.

It all finally made sense. Things were always about the damn serum. Of all the things the serum could do, helping vampires become immune to UV rays was the last thing any of them would’ve expected. Tony already had some theories as to why, but he’d need to study some of Natasha’s blood with Steve’s first. He made a mental note to get a sample before he fixed her. Bruce will be excited to look at it with him, he was sure. As soon as he wasn’t being controlled by Dracula, that is. Maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to send the Hulk in. A vampire Hulk was extra terrifying.

Dracula with Hulk’s power was a worst nightmare. When the man dropped Steve and began screaming in pain, Tony nearly fainted with relief. He was a very understanding man, but dating a vampire Steve might’ve been too much, even for him. Though maybe he could get into blood play… He shook away the thought. _Not the time,_ he reminded himself.

" Sir, Hulk’s blood is attacking Dracula’s blood," JARVIS explained while Tony studied the scans. How had he not thought of the gamma rays! He was learning so much today, it was hard to remember that all of this was a bad thing. Tony loved learning about a whole new subject to study. Vampires were fascinating. The experiments he could do if he just got his hands on a minion were endless.

When the ground suddenly opened up beneath them, Tony quickly tried to scan as much as possible from the glowing white light full of creepy shadows. Dracula’s escape was too quick for Tony to get anything useful. He sighed. Oh well, it was time to go save Widow with science. He couldn’t wait to rub it in Cap’s face.

…

The sound of shattering glass against the castle’s stone walls scared away some of his minions lurking in the shadowy corner. Dracula roared in frustration. No matter how many times he played through the events with the Avengers in his head, he could only come to one conclusion. Anthony Edward Stark had ruined him. Even if the gamma radiation had been what decided the battle, the scientist had destroyed his his remaining chance when he figured out a way to cure Natasha without Dracula releasing her. It was supposed to be impossible. Nothing was more powerful than Dracula’s hold on one of his own, personally created, vampires.

But no. One of the solid, comforting facts of Dracula’s existence had been shattered by Tony Stark and the Avengers. Captain America’s blood was still the primary goal, but he needed the genius dead. It had taken him longer than it should have to realize the real danger of Stark’s discovery. The mortal could potentially ‘cure’ all of his kind, returning them to the weak state of humans. While maybe once upon a time, in the early days of being immortal, Dracula would have welcomed the opportunity to be rid of what he thought was an evil curse, centuries later, he knew better.

Vampires were superior. They were stronger, faster, lived longer, and could learn far more than humans if only because of there prolonged lifespans. The top of the food chain was a vampire, and he ruled them all. Why would he ever want to return to the sad state of a mortal man, too caught up and puny conflicts and violence to recognize the overall pointlessness of his murders and impailings. No, if he allowed Tony Stark to live with this vampire cure knowledge, he’d be failing in his duty to his entire race.

The plan started to form itself, and Dracula smiled, sitting down on his throne. He would get his revenge and the Captain’s blood in one swoop. Steven Rogers’ mistake was in allowing the world to see his weakness. Kidnapping his precious lover would surely bring the Captain America to him willingly. And nothing would stop him from killing Tony anyway after the supersoldier gave himself up. They could die together, how romantic. The small chuckle grew into a hearty evil laugh that echoed through the halls.

…

After everything that had happened in previous Octobers, Tony no longer let his guard down. Really, he never let his guard down at all anymore. They had far too many powerful enemies to be even remotely careless. So Tony always had the suit. Steve had been furious, well really all of them had, when they found out Tony had injected himself with untested nanobots for his bleeding edge armour design, but in the end it worked so they got over it. Personally, Tony thought people had been far too caught up on the ‘risk’ of it all, it was his tech for god’s sake. They should trust his tech more.

So he always had the armour now, didn’t even have to think about it. Granted, it meant that if Ultron ever did manage to make his way back from Strange’s tech-suppressing dimension, it’d be even easier to take over his body. Plus he’d be far more thoroughly fucked. But it was fine, you win some, you lose some right? Tony was trusting Dr. Strange with his life more and more than he’d ever have liked to anyway, and vice versa.

This year, SI was working on an international project that took more oversight from Tony than usual. He was meeting with leaders around the globe to hammer out details of the Global Clean Energy Project (GCEP) and how it could fit into each country’s laws. More of them had issues with government contracts with electrical companies and oil or coal burning industries than he had initially thought. Between Pepper, the lawyers, and him, this October had been one long world-tour of legalese and diplomacy.

Which was fine, really, Tony was not desperately missing the tower and his friends. He didn’t need to see Steve in the flesh just to breathe sometimes. The fact that the team was doing missions without him didn’t send him into panic attacks or anything. He only had two more countries to visit anyway. He’d be warm in bed with the love of his life soon, he kept reminding himself.

That was the most infuriating part about all of this, Tony decided. He had been so close to finally going home when Dracula snuck up on him. It hadn’t mattered that the suit was with him, that it could produce UV radiation now, or even that he carried silver with him. After dealing with vampires the first time, he had tried to prepare for the next, but he still hadn’t figured out a way to detect them with his tech. The lack of heat signatures, or even a pulse, was a major obstacle for early detection.

He was walking back to his hotel from the Palazzo Chigi, where he had been schmoozing the President del Consiglio. Tony was always the one to deal with Italy for SI since so many of the powerful figures were old family friends on Maria’s side. Most of them hated that she had left with Howard, but luckily they were charmed by her son and how he shared her eyes. The vintage Italian wine had left him with a warm buzz, and the night was mild and humid, so a walk had sounded much nicer than calling Happy up. His only warning was the wisp of black smoke in his periphery and the sound of a whispered "Anthony" in his ear.

Tony threw his head back in a pained gasp as he felt the cold surround him and fill his lungs and it took him an embarrassingly long moment to realize that he wasn’t still looking at the night sky. He was looking into red, glowing eyes and he couldn’t move. "Anthony Edward Stark," Vlad Dracula began, "You will follow me to my castle. You will not scream, you will not call anyone, and you will turn off any way for someone to track your location."

This must be what being hypnotized felt like. Tony could hear the vampires words in tandem with his own voice in his head. It was as though Dracula’s instructions were his own thoughts, and he _wanted_ to follow them. The conflicting desire to scream and call the Avengers was merely a dull buzz in the back of his mind compared to Dracula’s own desires ringing loudly through his head. The suit formed around him while Dracula transformed into a bat. The flight to Transylvania took almost no time.

" Is there anyway to deactivate your new suit within your body? So you can’t activate it anymore?" Dracula asked him. Tony was lying on a stone table, watching his captor chain his wrists and ankles to each other and locking them to the bolts in the ground. It was uncomfortable and cold, but he didn’t struggle. This was what Dracula wanted.

"If you pull out the arc reactor slightly, there’s a pinhole in the side of the casing," Tony explained calmly. Underneath the flat demeanor and fog of hypnotism, he was panicking. Not only had he never tried this, but it could possibly kill him, and it would be a slow agony if it did. But this was what Dracula wanted. "If you stick a pin in, it should shut down the nanobots in my bloodstream, and they won’t be able to be reactivated without equipment from my lab."

"Ah, good, thank you." The thrill of pleasure that ran down Tony’s spine at the praise from his master was wonderful. It was all so surreal. Tony wondered if this was what being controlled by Loki had been like for Clint and Selvig. "I prefer not to have you under my spell this whole time, it makes conversation quite dull."

Tony’s breathing stuttered when Dracula pulled the arc reactor out of the socket. The panic that came with anyone touching the thing that kept him alive was far more powerful than the hypnotism. Dracula met his panicked gaze sharply, and Tony felt some of the panic subside. It seemed a strangely courteous thing to do; it’s not as though Tony could fight back. Maybe Dracula wasn’t completely evil. Villains came in varying levels of cruelty. It felt like an electric shock ran through him when the pin was stuck in. It was hard to explain how he knew, but Tony knew that the nanobots were all deactivated. He felt somehow dulled, like he had been constantly thrumming like a machine, and now he had been powered down. He hadn’t noticed that he could feel the nanotech until the feeling was gone.

Arc reactor back in place, the vampire king met Tony’s eyes, "Was that successful?" Tony nodded, unable to look away from the glowing red. "I release you."

Tony blinked. He felt the fog lift from his mind, but truthfully, he had expected more of a physical feeling, maybe a shock. Instead, he just slowly realized that his decisions were his own again. He gave an experimental tugs on the chains, just for shits and giggles. He had no such luck. This really sucked, and now that he was no longer under the vampires hypnosis, it began to sink in. "You do know that I have a secretary you can call to make appointments with me, right? No need to kidnap me just to talk." Bravado always kept away the fear. He couldn’t give in to it yet, it was so early on in the kidnapping.

To the genius’ credit, Dracula did chuckle. "Yes, I’ve missed good conversation. I think a fellow scientist to talk to will do my sanity some good. While you’re still alive, that is."

Tony took a steadying breath. "You planning on killing me? I have obligations tomorrow, so I’d really rather not die. Maybe we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement instead? What is it exactly you’re after? I can donate some blood without dying, right? Is that it?"

Dracula sighed from across the room. He returned to Tony’s side with a metal cart of medical supplies. "No, you will certainly die." He stuck the needle into Tony’s left arm, and connected him to an IV bag, where Tony could see his blood beginning to drip into. He walked around to the other arm and began the same process.

Slowly being bled to death was not one of the ways Tony wanted to go out. Maybe an explosion, or some kind of disintegration ray, something cool, but not bleeding out. It sounded terrifying; there was far too much time to contemplate the coming death. "Look," panic clawed at his throat, and some of the fear leaked into his tone. "I have no beef with your kind, Lord Dracula. I leave that to Blade. That’s who you typically antagonize, right? You don’t have to kill me, I’ll continue to leave you alone."

The vampire was predictably unconvinced. Just the idea of two bags of his blood filling at once made Tony feel a little nauseated. It had to be psychological, he hadn’t lost enough yet to feel anything. "Oh, but I do have to kill you, Anthony. I have no particular hate towards you, but you did manage to find a scientific cure to your Natasha Romanov, and I can’t risk that knowledge existing. It’s self preservation. Well preservation of my species. If your solution got out, my kind could quickly die out, all being returned to their mortal state. I’ve already had the data scrubbed from your systems, but you have to die too. It’s your own genius that sealed your fate." Dracula, for his part, did look like he found the whole ordeal semi-regrettable, but Tony could see the glee already taking over the vampires features. "Plus, you’re the perfect bait for Captain America. His blood will cure my only weakness!"

Tony tried to reactivate his nanotech with his thoughts. He knew it wouldn’t work, but it was worth a try, right? He began running through a list in his head of ways out of this mess, but short of somehow talking Dracula out of his admittedly logical plan, he was completely dependent on outside help to rescue him. He wondered what the rate of his blood loss would be. If he knew, he could calculate how long he had. It would probably slow down as he lost volume, he decided, since his blood pressure would keep decreasing. "Well this sucks." Tony said aloud. "Do I have any hope in convincing you to change this plan? I could swear I’ll never make the cure again. Or I could use my skills to come up with a solution to your sun-sensitivity that doesn’t include Cap." He could at least save Steve, maybe.

"I have studied chemistry for centuries. If there were a way besides the serum, I’d have found it." The king sounded casually conversational. Tony heard him take a seat somewhere behind him, and he couldn’t get the right angle to see. "Instead, how about we discuss astrophysics? It’s what I’ve began studying most recently, and I find it fascinating. You do know it, don’t you? Oh, but first we have to make your ransom message."

A vampire minion was hanging from the ceiling above him. Tony hadn’t noticed him there until that moment, and the camera phone had a red blinking light to let them know it was recording. "Captain America," Dracula smiled into the camera. He gestured to his little set up with a flourish. "I have your lover here, and can kill him whenever I choose. As you can see, I am already bleeding him slowly, so you have a time limit to accept my demands if you’d like him back alive." Tony grunted in surprise when the vampire gripped his face, hard, forcing Tony to look directly into the camera. He held him there while he continued, the long sharp nails drawing blood from Tony’s cheeks. "In exchange for your surrender, alone and in person, I will let him live. If you bring your mighty Avengers with you, or seem to be planning an attack, well," he moved so quickly that Tony wasn’t sure what happened. He blinked one moment, and the next the vampire had his throat and Tony was fighting to breathe. "I’ll just kill him quicker." The minion left Tony’s line of sight, and he gasped for breath when his throat was released. "Sorry for the theatrics, but we had to make sure he understood the gravity of the situation. Now where were we… Ah! Astrophysics!"

Tony grit his teeth against the angry responses in his head. Antagonizing his captor would likely only quicken his death and perhaps make it more painful. A bat flew over his head carrying a flash drive, presumably with the footage they had just made. He was depending entirely on Steve telling the other Avengers. Because if Steve came alone, they were doomed. If Tony could control the outcome, he’d rather have Steve just not come at all. Dracula would probably kill him rather than leave him alive to get revenge. Steve would be the naive kind of person who would believe Dracula that he’d be sparing Tony. Of course, he already knew that the vampire had no plans of letting him live.

…

Steve played the drive several more times. He didn’t have a choice in whether or not to tell the others. He had watched the video in the tower; if he didn’t tell anyone, JARVIS definitely would. No, everyone was about to know when he called them to the meeting. He did, however, have a choice on how to handle this. If he ordered the Avengers to stand down and let him go alone, they would argue, but they would ultimately follow his orders. They trusted him like that. Tony trusted him. He paused the video as Tony was being strangled, eyes wide and staring into the camera. Steve saw the fear clearly, but also a hard, stubborn look that was purely Tony.

They were like that now. The two of them could often communicate a lot without a single word. Tony was begging him not to do the trade. But how could Tony really expect him to risk Tony’s immediate murder? There was always the possibility that Dracula wouldn’t hold up his end of the deal and Tony would die anyway, but Steve thought it unlikely. Dracula was a lot of things, but he had always been a man of his word. Plus, the king tended not to do things that didn’t directly benefit him. What could he possibly gain from killing Tony? Steve wiped a stray tear away. All of this was too much. "JARVIS, call the Avengers to the meeting room."

They all watched the video in tense silence. Bruce gripped the table through the wave of green that rippled through him. The dent in the table was not the first, but Steve was grateful that Bruce was still in control. Steve certainly wouldn’t be if he had the Hulk inside of him. He barely felt in control now. "Thoughts?" He asked finally.

"You know Dracula best. What do you think?" Natasha asked.

Steve sat down heavily. His head in his hands, "I don’t know."

Phil watched him carefully. Steve never looked so helpless, even the other times Tony had been kidnapped. He hadn’t been there when they went against the vampires the last time, but he got the gist from Clint. Dracula was not to be taken lightly. "Was the message time-stamped?" he asked.

Steve lifted his head. His eyes were red. "There’s not much time to decide. He’s bleeding him from both arms. That should take less than twenty minutes, but I’m banking on Dracula drawing it out, since what he wants is me and if he were doing it quickly Tony would already be…" he couldn’t say it. He swallowed. "He has plenty of experience draining people, so he probably knows how to draw it out as long as possible, but Tony will certainly be gone within the next hour by JARVIS’ most generous calculations." There wasn’t enough time to break down. There was barely enough time to plan, and they didn’t even have an idea for a plan. It was too much.

Clint startled everyone by slamming his hands on the table. "I’ve got it!"

"Well spit it out, archer!" Thor prodded impatiently.

"Sorry. Vision can sneak in! He can be intangible and invisible, so none of ole Drac’s minions will see him, and because he’s an android, Drac’s supernatural senses won’t sense him there!" Clint beamed at them. He never got to make the plans that saved the day, since he was always just a little slower at coming up with them. He was just as good a tactician as Steve, just not as fast. He liked to blame the serum for the difference.

That was… actually genius. Maybe they should let Clint do the planning more often. Steve had been so caught up in the impossibility to sneak into Castle Dracula, that he forgot to consider technology as a way past the supernatural. Tony would be ecstatic at the thought of tech winning against vampires yet again. "Good work, Clint." Clint absolutely did _not_ feel faint because Cap praised him for a plan. Nope. " Right, JARVIS, call on Vision and let him in on the plan."

"He is already on his way, Captain." Okay, Steve breathed. This would work. He would give himself up and Dracula would give up Tony. Then Vision could get Tony to a hospital quickly, while the others saved Steve. It would be risky, but it would work.

As Vision flew beside the jet towards Transylvania, already intangible just in case Dracula was watching, Steve talked to him through the calms. "I just thought of something else. Can you extend your intangibility to other people? We could all escape pretty quickly then."

"Unfortunately, Captain, I cannot. I am only able to control my own body’s density. I, too, have thought of an additional possibility. Would you like to hear it?"

"Yes," Steve couldn’t help but laugh. Vision always asked if people wanted him to share his ideas or do a solid plan, as though someone might say no.

"Excellent. It’s never come up before in battle, but the stone from which I shoot energy blasts is a solar stone. The energy it emits is akin to sunlight, also known as ultraviolet light."

Steve nearly yelped with joy. The new information was almost too good to be true. "That’s perfect! That can actually harm Dracula. What would you say to the plan changing so once Dracula believes he has me, you attack. Then while you’re attacking, I can grab Tony and we’ll all escape at once!"

Vision smiled. "I would say it sounds like a logically sound plan, Captain."

…

Tony was amazed that he was still conscious; actually, he was amazed he was still alive at all. By his calculations, he probably should’ve died about twenty minutes ago, but Dracula must’ve done something with the set up to slow it down. He was barely breathing, and the room had been spinning for a while now. Initially, he had been sweaty and hot, but now he felt like ice. Dracula had grown impatient with his slurred weak speech, so the astrophysics conversation ceased. Tony could hear the vampire say something about the Captain arriving, but Tony couldn’t really remember who he was or what was happening. All he knew was the spinning room and rapid, tiny movements of his chest as he tried to keep breathing. His heartbeat was less a beat and more like a flutter that occasionally took a small break.

Steve entered the throne room at a sprint. His eyes found Tony immediately, and he almost forgot the plan. The brunette was sheet-white, with blue lips. He didn’t even look like he was breathing. The two bags were full of so much blood and how could Tony still be alive he had failed him he should’ve just come alone sooner and maybe Dracula would just kill him quickly so he didn’t have to live with this guilt and-

No, he had to focus. He tore his gaze away from the hopefully not dead Tony, and glared at Dracula. "Here I am, no weapons." He walked forward with his hands up to show there was no attack planned. "Can my teammates collect Tony as soon as you have my blood? He doesn’t look like he can last much longer."

Dracula grinned, all teeth and glinting fangs. The growing rumble of his laughter echoed around Steve. The fear that filled him was the instinctual panic of cornered prey. Dracula was a blur as he suddenly lurched forward and grabbed hold of Steve. "I think he’ll last just long enough to die with you, Steven Rogers." And Dracula was holding him with one hand wrenching his head to the side, mouth wide and ready to sink his veins into Steve’s neck. The whole thing had happened so fast, Steve wasn’t sure when they had ended up right next to Tony.

He tried to meet Tony’s eyes. They were half-lidded and completely glazed over. This close, Steve could see the way his chest stuttered. Tony blinked hard, before looking at Steve confused and out of it. "Say goodbye, Steve," Dracula hissed.

"Enough," Vision’s voice rang out. Steve felt Dracula let go as the beam of light threw him across the room. Vision flew over, never allowing the energy beam to stop, and the vampire was screaming in agony. "Go, Captain!" Vision shouted.

Steve wasted no time ripping the chains off the cuffs around Tony’s extremities. He scooped up the dying man and sprinted back the way they came. Dracula’s minions screeched in surprise and tried to attack them, swooping down in every hallway, but Steve just jumped out of the way each time and kept running. By the time he reached the jet, he had a whole horde behind him to be caught in the UV rays shooting out of the doorway to the jet. He’s glad he had thought to turn those on at the last moment, just in case. "Vision, we’re out. Rendezvous in the sky and you can fly Tony to the helicarrier faster than the jet can. He doesn’t have much time."

There was no response over the calms, but Steve could hear the screams of Dracula stop, and Vision was already beside the jet by the time they were properly in the air. The jet bay opened to allow him entrance, and without a word he took Tony and zoomed off. The rush of air behind him nearly knocked Steve off his feet. He had never seen Vision that fast. "JARVIS, follow them." His suddenly shaky legs gave out and he sat on the ground in the middle of the jet while JARVIS took care of piloting. Steve was starting to agree with Tony that maybe October was cursed.

Tony pried his eyelids open, heart monitor beeping beside him. He had never felt this weak in his life, and his chest ached. Little snippets of what had happened came to him slowly, and not in order. Steve just watched the man figure out everything, expressions of confusion, fear, anger, realization, flitting across his face clearly. When he finally turned his head to look at the blond, he seemed pretty lucid. He was so thankful that Steve looked fine and not like a vampire. "How did you get away?" Tony’s voice broke between a whisper and murmur, so he cleared his throat.

Tony wasn’t sure how to take the way Steve’s face crumpled, and the fact that his head was suddenly laying against Tony’s head while he cried. So Tony just played with Steve’s hair and waited. He knew what being the one waiting beside a hospital bed felt like. Eventually, Steve came back to himself. "Clint thought of it actually. Dracula can’t sense Vision’s synthetic biology, and he stayed invisible until Dracula thought he had won."

"And Vision has the solar stone," Tony finished, a tired smile on his face. "That was a good plan. I thought we were goners."

Steve looked at him seriously until the silence started to grow uncomfortable. "Your heart stopped several times," his voice broke. "The massive heart attack you suffered as a complication means you might need a transplant. Tony I," it broke again, and Steve heaved a sob before swallowing it and continuing. "I thought I’ve seen you near death before, but not like this."

Tony had to fight the urge to look away. It was hard to meet the haunted look in Steve’s eyes. He had to admit, he had never felt so close to death before. The ache in his chest made sense now if he had been resuscitated that many times. There was no good way to respond to a revelation like that. Nothing could convey all the feelings warring in his chest. "Dracula’s a bitch, right?" he tried, immediately regretting the attempt at humor. He just wasn’t good with this stuff. Really, no one was good at a conversation like this. How could you be? He squeezed Steve’s hand. "I’m so sorry, love."

Steve squeezed back. There was so much he wanted to say, but Tony still looked exhausted, and his eyes were already drifting shut again. Tony was alive, and Steve couldn’t do anything about the damage to Tony’s heart right now. They would figure it out together. Tony always came back stronger. Stark men are made of iron.


	17. Doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been nearly a decade since the last time he used the doll. His life was comfortable, he didn’t need to. The money was running out, though, and in retrospect he maybe should’ve invested some of it, but now it was too late. He could pull out the old costume and doll for one last mission, then he would invest it properly this time and swear off hurting people for good. The only logical target was the richest man in the world, of course. Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used that old character Mr. Doll that died back in the 70s. Because I'm that person, so deal with it.
> 
> I wrote this all in one go, and haven't really had time to read it over, but I'm still trying to catch back up so hope it's good. Let me know if there's any glaring mistakes. This is generic voodoo doll stuff, but all should be aware that this is not at all representative of any practice in either Haitian Voodoo or Louisianan Voodoo. Mr. Doll's character came about a very long time ago, and for some reason the original writers thought it made sense for Nathan to get a Voodoo doll while in Africa. Do not take anything from this story as useful information about actual religions.
> 
> Warnings for graphic descriptions of injuries including broken bones and blood.
> 
> ALSO!!! Please check out the event Marvel Trumps Hate on tumblr. I'm participating as a creator under the name rhys, so if you like my work, you can bid to request a fic to your specifications, and the money goes to charity!

Nathan Dolly was a very rich man, once. He would claim he was self-made, that hard work had got him there, and it wouldn’t be entirely untrue. As the villain known as Mr. Doll, he made a lot of money through extortion of successful business men. Some would say the hard work was done by the men he stole from, but they didn’t know how hard Mr. Doll had worked to gain his skills.

Mr. Doll had no super-powers. He had no suits of armour, no genius IQ, he wasn’t even particularly strong, agile or attractive. Mr. Doll was a normal human with normal ambitions and desires. He blamed the job market for his lapses in ethics. How was he to compete for wealth in this country against attractive geniuses and people who came from wealthy families and had all the right connections? He tried the whole work hard and save money method, but after multiple occasions of being let go from companies that were downsizing, despite his loyal, hard work, it was hard to keep at it.

So he went soul searching. Nathan travelled the world with the little he had saved up, originally in hopes of buying a house. While in Africa, and he could admit that he wasn’t sure which country (his geography knowledge terrible, and he knew nothing of the different cultures there), he met a woman that changed everything. She tried to explain the magic behind it, but the language barrier was too much. When he was handed the voodoo doll, she was able to get across a simple message. "Look like person, hurt like person."

Nathan Dolly practiced for years. It was not easy to mold a wax doll into a real person’s likeness on the spot, but by the time he took on the alias of Mr. Doll? He could do it in 10-15 seconds flat, depending on the details required for that person. That skill was not easily gained, it took hard work. So, when he began using his hard-earned skill to torture rich people into giving him money, well, hard work had got him there!

It had been nearly a decade since the last time he used the doll. His life was comfortable, he didn’t need to. The money was running out, though, and in retrospect he maybe should’ve invested some of it, but now it was too late. He could pull out the old costume and doll for one last mission, then he would invest it properly this time and swear off hurting people for good. The only logical target was the richest man in the world, of course. Tony Stark.

…

The email would’ve slipped through the cracks if Tony hadn’t told JARVIS to monitor for every single phrase that could possibly be construed as a threat. The email address that sent it was a meaningless string of characters, and the subject was an inconspicuous "Please Read." It naturally ended up in the Stark Industries spam folder.

"Sir, I have flagged a possibly threatening email for you to review," JARVIS announced over breakfast.

Tony sighed when the whole team looked at him sharply. "JARVIS, I thought we talked about not telling me these things while others are in ear shot, hmm?"

"This has happened before!?" Steve asked incredulously. It would’ve been adorable how naive the man was if Tony had had enough coffee for this. In lieu of answering, he just raised an eyebrow at the blond with a smirk.

Clint rescued him, thank god, while he got himself another mug of coffee. "Steve, he’s the richest man in the world, owns the largest tech company, and used to be known as the ‘Merchant of Death.’ Are you really surprised?"

Tony couldn’t help the wince at his old nickname, but thankfully no one seemed to notice. Steve looked scolded, and Tony mussed his hair on the way back to his seat to hopefully cheer the man up. "Okay, hit me J."

"The subject reads Please Read. The content reads ‘I humbly request that you give me $2 million. To agree, merely put up a youtube video of you playing a song on the piano, and I will contact you with details for a meeting. If you choose not to meet my request, it is understandable, but know that the subsequent pain will be from me. The pain will stop when you change your mind. Thank you, a citizen in need.’ It does not get any more specific than that," JARVIS finished.

Tony could see why the email had made it past his security department. Everything was worded in such a way that there was no outright ‘I’ll get you’ or ‘you’re gonna die’ kind of message. The subject and message both were polite. "The threat itself is so vague and in the passive voice, how strange. Did you try to trace it yet?"

"We were unable to, Sir."

"Alright, whelp, forward it to Happy and switch to protocol 21144518-208185120 for now." Tony made a shooing motion, already bored with this. The vague threats with no name were always so boring, plus they never ended up getting past security. He pulled out his tablet and the newest specs for Natasha’s stinger upgrades were up, so he started working on those.

"Of course, Sir."

The work engrossed him immediately, so he didn’t notice the way everyone else in the room exchanged glances. Eventually Bruce shrugged, deciding Tony would probably be least annoyed by him pressing. "How often are you getting death threats and not telling any of us?" When the man didn’t seem to hear him, "Tony."

Tony’s head snapped up. "Hmm? What’s that Brucie?"

"I asked how often are you getting death threats and not telling any of us?" He cleaned his glasses on his shirt, not looking at the genius. He heard the sigh from Tony and everyone shifted in their seats, waiting.

So this conversation was happening. Tony set down the tablet and stretched until his spine popped. "Why would I bother you guys with this? They’re directed at me personally, not the Avengers. You guys are always notified when you’re involved, I swear."

"A threat to you is a threat to us all," Thor responded, far too seriously for a stupid email threat. "You are a brother in arms." Natasha was nodding in agreement. Tony thought it was just because the two of them were buddies, so she always sided with him.

"They’re really not," Tony said flatly. "My security protocols are sound, and bothering anyone else about it, other than the people I pay to be bothered by it," he emphasized that he already had a team of experts called security, "is just unnecessary."

Steve still hadn’t said anything, and Tony knew that was always a bad sign. He was usually the first busybody in these conversations going on and on about how Tony needed to take care of himself. "SHIELD would appreciate a log of those threats for our database," Phil said.

"I bet they would," Tony muttered.

"You never answered the question," Steve broke his stony silence.

"What question?"

"How often does this happen?" he spoke quietly, which for Steve, was his version of ‘you better give me the right answer or I’ll explode into an unreasonable angry soldier.’ Tony knew him.

"Sir receives some kind of physical threat approximately three times a day on average, and the threats that I flag because they have made it past Stark Industries security are approximately once every five weeks." JARVIS betrayed him. Tony glared up at the ceiling; his AI would know it’s directed at him.

"That’s more than I expected," Natasha commented calmly. She appeared thoughtful, like she was recalculating something in her head. Tony was never quite sure how the woman’s brain worked.

"What is the protocol you activated?" Steve asked.

This was eating away at his work-time. Tony would much rather be getting things done than dissecting his every decision for the team. Past experience told him it was more efficient to get it all out now, though, than walking away and having an argument later. "It’s a protocol for JARVIS where he scans all food and drink before I eat it, ups the number of times he does a security sweep of the tower per day, does DNA scans of everyone to make sure they’re not imposters, and I keep some of my nanobots out as a watch so he can be scanning my surroundings while I’m out and about." The watch formed on his wrist as he explained. "I’m not new at this, you know. I let you know when it becomes something to actually worry about." That should satisfy Steve, Tony was proud of it. That security protocol had taken him several trial runs to work out blind spots.

Steve didn’t look happy, but he didn’t start yelling either. Tony kind of wished he would, so they could just get it over with. Instead, the supersoldier just stood and walked away. "I’m going to the gym," he said behind him.

"So… is he mad at me? I can’t tell," Tony looked around at the others. Bruce just gave him a pitying look as though the answer should be obvious. No one else even attempted to answer him, going back to their own activities. "Whatever, I’m going to the lab."

The workout helped. Steve felt like a tightly coiled spring ready to burst upwards after the conversation this morning, and he would rather get the energy out productively than exploding at Tony. He was beginning to come to terms with the fact that Tony truly didn’t understand the issue with these things. The genius was so used to being on his own and barely cared about his own body, that he honestly thought it would be a useless bother to tell his family. Tony didn’t mean to starve himself for days, or hurt himself carelessly in the lab; he just truly didn’t care about his own body. He had said something once about it being just a vehicle for the mind. It didn’t matter how many times Steve told him that said mind would cease if said vehicle died, it just didn’t stick. Steve was trying to accept these flaws as just part of who Tony was, and he loved all of Tony, even the parts he didn’t like.

So when he ventured down to the lab that afternoon, the goal was to have a calm discussion. "Hey Tony."

Tony acknowledged him with a nod but continued typing whatever he was typing. "Can we talk?"

"Sure, hold on," he finished the code he was working on before turning to face the blond warily. This could be the argument he was hoping to avoid. While makeup sex was good, Tony preferred not adding emotional stress to his days if he could avoid it. "What’s on your mind?"

Steve took a deep breath. Then he let it out slowly. They could discuss this without screaming. He was determined. They were adults. "I would appreciate it if you told me about these threats," he started. Tony opened his mouth to retort, but Steve held up a hand to stop him. "Hold on, please. I won’t make this a big thing and I’m not going to order you to as Captain America or something. This is your life and decision, and while I wish you would consider me enough a part of your life to include me on this, I understand if you don’t. As a member of the family you have here, and as your adoring boyfriend," he added with a small smile, "I want to know about every little threat. It may seem silly or not a real threat to you, but I would never forgive myself if you were hurt or killed and I could’ve been keeping a closer eye out for you because there was warning." He took a shaky breath. "It’s hard enough knowing you could die without warning in a fight or mission, I’d like to at least have warning when I can."

Tony waited to make sure he was finished. He had never really thought about it that way. He was so used to these threats, had been getting them since the kidnapping started when he was a small child, that they had come to all seem trivial to him. Attempting to see it through Steve’s eyes, Tony would also never forgive himself if Steve kept a death-threat from him then ended up dead. He’d spend eternity wondering if he could have stopped it. He pat his leg to indicate for Steve to sit in his lap. As usual, the man rolled his eyes, scooped Tony up, sat down, and kept Tony in his lap instead. One of these times, Tony was hoping Steve would be distracted and would let Tony be the one on bottom. Sure Steve weighed more, but Tony was far too curious as to what would happen.

Tony snuggled into his man’s lap, placing a kiss on his temple. "I’ll let you know from now on." He felt Steve soften beneath him with a sigh. He had clearly been more tense than Tony thought. "I want to include you in every part of my life. When you said you’d never forgive yourself, well, I get it. I never thought about it that way because I’m just so used to it. It was definitely worse before I became Iron Man," he remembered sourly.

Steve squeezed him in a tight hug. "I can’t believe so many people hate you. You’re so loveable," he reached down and tickled Tony, startling him. Tony squawked, nearly falling off the seat, but Steve caught him, chuckling. Bastard. "Thank you," he said seriously.

…

Exactly 48 hours after the first email, the second one arrived. The string of nonsense making up the sending email was different, but JARVIS picked it out because of the similar tone and the signature ‘A Citizen in Need.’ If JARVIS had eyes, he’d roll them. Clearly this person was in so much need, that’s why they were asking for $2M with the technology to hide their IP address instead of panhandling on the streets. Everyone knew Tony Stark was a philanthropist, that his money helped plenty of actual citizens in need through the Maria Stark Foundation, but this guy chose to threaten his master for money instead.

"Sir, a second email has arrived from our mysterious $2M dollar man."

Tony sighed, running his hands through his hair, inadvertently leaving oil streaked through it. "Where’s Steve so we can hear it together."

"Captain Rogers is currently in the library. Would you like to join him or shall I ask him to join you?"

Tony stood up, and his legs were stiff. He could use the walk. "I’ll go to him, thanks." Steve was reading from a window seat, snuggled under a blue fuzzy blanket and next to an Iron Man plushie. Tony smiled, warmth spreading through his chest at the sight. He really had the best boyfriend ever. It almost felt wrong to interrupt the serene scene. "Heya," he greeted, wiggling in across from him in the nook. His legs had to go between Steve’s and the window, which required a little twisting and flexibility, but Steve just watched him, laughing.

"Hi Tony." He put the book down, and Tony tilted his head to see the title. Huh. Tony would not have expected Steve to be reading _Quantum Field Theory and the Standard Model._

" Would you like me to inform the captain why you’re here, or are you going to?" the AI prodded him. Right, he was here for a reason. Tony got distracted by Steve’s secret interest in particle physics.

"Sorry, J, god." Tony rolled his eyes. "I got another email, so I thought you’d wanna hear it too."

"You thought right. Thank you," Steve met Tony’s eyes. Tony blushed and looked away. He cleared his throat and waved his hand around in the air. Apparently JARVIS understood that to mean to continue.

"The email address was different, but it’s definitely the same person. The subject was ‘have it your way.’ The body reads: I have waited 48 hours in order to allow a busy man such as yourself to make a decision. As I have not seen a youtube video of you playing the piano, I must make good on my promise, for I am a man of my word." Tony snorted. "The suffering will begin in one hour and will end when you give in. To signal surrender, you may post a picture of a teddy bear with a rubber duck on your instagram with the caption ‘To brighten your day.’ This seems specific enough to not happen accidentally, so I hope there will be no miscommunications. Awaiting happy news, a citizen in need."

Tony and Steve stared at each other for a moment in silence before Tony burst out laughing. Steve watched him in horror, confused. Maybe he had lost it. "What could possibly be funny about this?"

Tony wiped a tear from his eyes, still laughing. "It’s just," a chuckle, "a teddy bear and a rubber duck? This is clearly a nutcase. They never once mentioned how any of this suffering will come about! How are they planning on getting past security? Also, the assumption that I will give in. You know me Steve, that alone is hilarious." He broke off into another fit of laughter.

Steve furrowed his brow. "I think this should be taken seriously. The person is clearly confident in their ability to hurt you, and they sound logical enough to presume they’re not stupid or insane."

Tony’s laughter died. "Well there’s nothing more to do," he shrugged, but gave Steve a look that said he was aware of the danger. "I’ve already got people investigating and the most advanced AI in the world trying to trace down the sender. Plus I’ve got the Avengers living in my home, that I’m not planning on leaving today. Sounds pretty safe to me."

Steve had to admit that the man had a point. What more could they do? Worrying wasn’t gonna stop anything from happening. He let out a sigh. "How long ago was the email sent?"

"That would be 45 minutes ago, Captain Rogers. Shall I warn the others of your possible impending doom, Sir?" Even JARVIS was making light of this. Maybe Steve was paranoid for being worried, but he still felt the cold dread settle in his stomach.

Tony sighed, and Steve caught the flash of fear before the mask of humour returned. "Yeah, might as well. At least then if I start screaming or something, no one will have to waste time with explanations." Tony tugged Steve with him, leaving the library. "Let’s go watch a movie and forget about all this. We’ll either be interrupted in fifteen minutes or we won’t, right?"

An impromptu movie night started, even though it was Sunday and their usual movie night was on Thursdays. The team all joined them under pretenses of wanting to watch _Robots (2005)_. Tony’s commentary on any movies about sentient humanoid robots, which he refused to call anything but androids, would always be entertaining. The anxious tension was clear in the room, though, as everyone counted down in their heads. Tony tried to get into the movie and ignore it all. If he let himself believe this, the shithead would have already won, right?

Even the small part of Tony that had believed the threat had expected whatever it was to begin subtly. No one was prepared for the loud snap of his right forearm and accompanying scream. He looked down at the arm where bone had broken the skin and there was blood and his arm should not bend that way and he had to turn away swallowing down a wave of nausea. Everyone had jumped up and was watching him intensely. "Oh fuck, what the fuck," he groaned.

"JARVIS, did you pick up anything abnormal in the room?" Natasha asked. This was either the work of someone with cloaking capabilities, someone who could shrink like Ant-Man, or magic. The first two should be detected by JARVIS. The last would mean they should call Doctor Strange and Scarlet Witch immediately.

"I see no logical explanation for this outcome. My scans also indicate a rise in temperature and a drop in blood pressure, Sir." JARVIS’ voice sounded strained.

Tony groaned again, cradling his arm. "Goddamnit I hate October."

"Steve, get him to SHIELD medical and I’m going to call Strange and Wanda. This has to be magic." Natasha had taken command of the situation immediately, and Tony was grateful, because he was kind of distracted and Steve looked like he might be in shock.

"Shouldn’t we go to the hospital? They can do more if things get…" Steve stared at her, face full of fear. Natasha was afraid, too. Injuries that just appeared were not something she could do a damn thing about, and it was terrifying. Someone to beat up would help.

"A hospital is not going to be prepared to handle magical injuries that may not respond to normal care," Coulson jumped in.

"Doctor Strange and Scarlet Witch will meet you on the helicarrier," JARVIS said.

Clint flew the Avenjet while the rest of them rode in tense silence. The Avengers were not used to feeling so powerless. Tony held a bowl in his lap, and he had a sickly grey tint to him. Every so often they could hear him hiss in pain, but he was staying abnormally quiet overall.

The waves of nausea got stronger as he felt his fever rise. He pitched forward, Steve holding him steady as he emptied the contents of his stomach into a mixing bowl. He leaned back against Steve, just breathing with his eyes closed. "My head hurts," he moaned.

Steve placed a hand against Tony’s forehead, and Tony sighed in relief at the cold touch. "JARVIS, temperature update?"

"Sir’s fever has leveled off at 103 Fahrenheit."

"Not brain damage levels, yay," Tony said sarcastically. He was sweating profusely now, and considered taking off his shirt, but they would be at the helicarrier any minute. "Still no explanation?"

"Apologies, Sir, but I can find none."

Before Tony could begin a therapeutic rant about magic, excruciating pain in his left leg had him screaming. When it was a little less overwhelming, he looked down to see his femur was bending unnaturally. He closed his eyes and willed himself not to pass out.

With Tony sitting in a bed in medical, broken leg stretched out in front of him as he leaned against Steve, a medical doctor, Doctor Strange, and Wanda Maximoff were standing in the doorway. "I’m going to have to set your arm and leg while they talk," the man in a lab coat spoke, apologetic. "That arm will need surgery."

Tony merely nodded his consent, looking at the magic experts in his life. Strange and Wanda both stepped over beside the bed, scanning Tony, sharing a look, then looking back at Tony. Dr. whatever-his-name had two strong hands gripped painfully around Tony’s arm, and he was biting his lip to keep quiet. Tony was pretty sure people are normally put under for this. The man made a quick movement to set the bone and Tony couldn’t hold in the yell when his arm didn’t move, so the doctor’s hands just wrenched away and scratched his bruising arm enough to draw blood.

"What the-" the doctor began, looking slightly horrified.

"Did it feel like something had made the break immovable and solidified?" Wanda asked quietly. The doctor had to strain to hear her over Tony’s hissing breaths as the new pain subsided.

"Yes. How did you…?"

Tony was already over this. He was not excited for whatever this shithead magician coward who was torturing him without showing their face had in store for him next. His lightheadedness was getting worse. Tony had calmed enough to open his eyes and watch Wanda and Strange. They shared another meaningful look. Wanda stepped backwards towards the corner of the room. Apparently, they decided Strange would be handling this for now.

"Someone is using an idol of you to do this," Strange began. "It’s most likely a figure molded to look like you, though it could technically be anything as long as the sorcerer is thinking of you-"

"Strange," Tony snapped. "I don’t care about details, what do we do?"

Strange was unruffled by the outburst. He supposed he wouldn’t care about the details in Tony’s shoes. "I can perform a spell that should trace the magic to the user, but I’ll need Wanda’s help because she’s more powerful." Tony nodded, grinding his teeth. "Unfortunately, it will take a couple of hours to set up. In the meantime, nothing the medical staff can do is going to make a difference."

That was probably the worst news the sorcerer could’ve given. No, scratch that, it could’ve been untraceable. "Will my injuries heal when the spell is broken?" Please say yes, give him this one thing.

Both magicians shook their heads sadly. "No, but then you’ll be able to heal normally," Wanda provided. This sucked.

No one saw Bruce move, but the sound of the door slamming open and the glass of the window breaking announced his departure. Steve thought he might have seen a glimpse of the retreating man looking dangerously green and big. "Well, thanks guys, I’m pretty useless against magic," Tony admitted. Pain made him more humble, okay?

The three SHIELD agents could tell from Tony’s glances that he was embarrassed to have anyone but Steve see him like this, so they motioned for Thor to follow and left. Tony let out a moan as soon as they were gone, grateful for the privacy to vocalize the pain. He’d rather Steve didn’t have to see this, either, but he also needed Steve for his sanity. Strange disappeared in a sudden implosion of the air around the space he had been occupying, and Wanda was the only one who didn’t jump at the large CRACK.

"He’s going to get supplies," she explained simply.

Tony was miserable. "Hey babe, help me lay down, please?"

Steve tried his best to lower Tony gently until he was prone. They kept the broken limbs propped up in their odd angles with pillows, but there was no way it was comfortable. The distinct lack of medical staff made it surreal. Tony was hooked up to monitors, but nothing to fix anything. Steve sat down in the plastic chair to the left of the bed, holding Tony’s hand. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out to see an email forwarded from JARVIS. Steve began reading it aloud, "From Mr. Doll," the coward had finally at least given a false name, and a dumb one at that. "You should be pretty uncomfortable by now Mr. Stark. Know that I can make this worse very quickly, so please get back to me soon." Steve fought the urge to throw the phone at a wall. They may as well be able to get updates. He typed back a quick thanks to JARVIS for the update.

"What an ass," Tony grumbled. "I hate sorcerers," he was saying, just as the Sorcerer Supreme reappeared in the room. Wanda and Doctor Strange both narrowed their eyes at him. "Not you of course," Tony backtracked awkwardly. "I just meant… well, can you blame me?"

Wanda shrugged and Strange began setting out strange objects around the room. "I suppose not," he replied wryly. "Though you should acknowledge that not all magicks are equal, and nor are its users."

Tony let out an annoyed huff. He knew Strange was right, but he wasn’t going to say it. Strange already knew that Tony respected him anyway, this banter was their thing. Plus Wanda knew that Tony adored her. He just wished she would hide the worry on her face a little more as she stared at him.

Mr. Doll must’ve decided he was getting impatient, or perhaps got frustrated. Instead of another broken bone, Tony suddenly doubled over with a pained scream that he cut off with a sharp intake of air through grit teeth. His left side felt like a sword had gone through him. Steve gently pushed him back into his position laying on the bed, and gasped. Tony didn’t have to look to know why as he felt the warmth of blood seeping out of the new wound. "Fuck," he groaned, putting pressure on it.

Strange lifted his shirt and eyed the stab wound. It solidified his theory that this was a voodoo doll. It seemed an unnaturally cruel thing to do, to torture someone from afar. If one was going to stoop to dark magic to get money, they should at least have to hear their victim’s screams. "Well covering it won’t help unfortunately, but we can mitigate the blood loss by replacing it." Wanda nodded in agreement and left to get a nurse to start a transfusion.

Every breath hurt. It was surreal to just let a wound bleed freely, but he had noticed the way his hand had done nothing to lessen the leakage. The only plus side was that the stabbing pain definitely distracted him from the pain of his broken bones. The pain increased immeasurably for a moment, and Tony distantly knew those were his screams, but all he could focus on was the feeling that someone was twisting and digging a finger around in his side, but there was no one there. When the sensation finally disappeared, his chest was heaving as he tried to breathe normally again. Little by little, he was able to slow his gasps.

Steve wiped tears from Tony’s cheeks. This was his worst hell. Watching Tony suffer with no way to help. He couldn’t even direct his fury at a face because he had no idea what this Mr. Doll looked like. "What happened there?" he murmured.

"Felt like someone was digging around in my side," Tony spoke, voice strained and he was clenching his jaw hard. "Can, he kill me?" he finally found the courage to ask.

"Yes." Strange said simply. Tony couldn’t decide if he respected the bluntness or wished the man would’ve tried to soften the blow. It was probably best he knew the gravity of this, he supposed.

"What a way to go, huh Steve?" Tony grit out.

"Stop," Steve said sharply. "You’re not going to die." He had to believe that. Mr. Doll still wanted the money, right? He wouldn’t get it if he killed Tony.

Tony made a sound similar to a laugh that became a small yelp. "Is that an order, Cap?" He managed to smile at Steve.

"Yes it is, shellhead."

Mr. Doll seemed to be satisfied with the number of injuries for a while, occasionally digging around in the wound again. Once, Tony had stopped breathing altogether for a whole minute, twitching with the effort to take in air, but unable to and clutching at his chest. Steve had had a moment of terror thinking that might be their final moment. Tony had held his gaze, eyes wide with terror as they all heard the monitors screeching their alerts. When he finally gasped and arched up off the bed suddenly, Steve had nearly fainted with relief. "Oh Tony!"

Tony’s vision had almost been occluded completely by the black splotches, that dissipated into a colourful static look before he could see normally again. He was gulping in air as soon as the invisible weight had lifted off his chest. "He put a weight on you figure’s chest," Wanda said quietly. Tony had never seen her cry before, but a single tear had traveled down her cheek at some point, because the wet streak was still visible. Some part of him wanted to know how she knew, but another louder part didn’t, and instead he just met her gaze. "Just another half-hour or so," she whispered. Strange glanced up at her, unsure if he could finish that quickly. She sent him a wave of confidence without breaking her gaze with Tony, and Doctor Strange decided she was right.

Steve had watched the silent exchange. It was hard to tell what went on between the two of them sometimes, though not as impossible as it had been between Clea and Strange for a while. The Avengers didn’t see much of Clea after their divorce, though, and Strange had mentioned something about her not needing him anymore while drunk at last year’s Christmas party. He hoped whatever conversation had passed between the Scarlet Witch and Doctor Strange was good news for Tony. The struggling brunette looked like his strength was beginning to wane. Steve leaned forward and brushed the sweaty locks out of Tony’s eyes. Tony looked away from Wanda then, and shared a small smile with Steve.

Steve got another email, and the sudden panic that gripped him made him not want to open it. "Tony, it’s another message." Tony kept focusing on his breathing. It helped. He nodded for Steve to continue. "Mr. Stark, I grow weary of our game, and I sense your spellcaster weaving a path towards me. As I have no desire to face the Sorcerer Supreme, for I myself have no magic beyond my one doll, I must end our game and leave the doll behind. If Doctor Strange can reach the doll in time, you may yet live, but I will not be there for capture. I apologize that we could not come to an amicable agreement. Regretfully retiring, Mr. Doll."

"He can’t do that!" Tony burst out angrily. "You can still find him, right?" Tony looked pleadingly at Strange.

Strange’s expression told him all he needed. They would never even see this asshole’s face. There wasn’t even reason to believe the man when he said he had no powers. Tony would be doing some of his own investigating after he survived this. That was one of Tony’s last comprehensible thoughts before all that was left was all-consuming pain and the struggle to breathe. It felt like a giant stepped on him, crushing a lot of him, all but his head, neck, spine and sternum. Everything hurt and he no longer controlled his body’s squirming and ragged gasps.

Steve stood up at the sudden change in Tony’s body. He hadn’t even finished his scream before it had cut off into strangled gasping and coughing up blood. Steve could tell all of his ribs were broken, his chest sort of caving in the center. The wound in Tony’s side began bleeding faster, and all of his limbs laid unnaturally flat against the bed. The idea that every limb could have breaks was horrifying. Strange was working quickly in his periphery, but Tony was dying in agony in front of them. "He’s going to die!" Steve sobbed.

Wanda held out her hands with a loud "No." The red chaos magic flowed from her hands into Tony, and Steve could see her sweating from the effort. Her eyes glowed red and her mouth was parted as she lifted a few inches off the ground. Tony’s monitors flatlined, but Steve could see that Tony wasn’t dead. He was more frozen. It reminded Steve of one of Tony’s stasis fields, but red and magic. Steve couldn’t escape the knowledge that even if Wanda kept him like this until Strange broke the spell, Tony would still be in this state when she let go. Could the doctors even save him? Strange finished whatever he had been chanting, which Steve hadn’t even noticed he was chanting, and looked at Wanda. "You must do it alone," she told him, never breaking the flow of magic between her and Tony.

Steve and Strange looked at each other. Strange took a deep breath, and looked nervous. "Right. Have the medical staff ready for all three of us in a moment." Steve had no chance to ask what that meant or agree before Strange was suddenly gone.

He ran out into the hall, shouting for help. Several staff came running over and he wasn’t sure what to say. Some of them could see inside, and they had been monitoring Tony’s vitals from the nurses’ station, but this was beyond their depth. Tony was clearly still alive, but his body seemed on pause. "Doctor Strange said to be ready for all three of them," he managed to get out in a tumble of words. In that moment, Strange reappeared.

Steve whipped around to see the sorcerer collapse into a heap on the ground, wax figure safely cradled in his hand. Wanda seemed to take this as her moment to give in as well, because she glowed brighter for a moment, whispered "live" and collapsed, unconscious. Steve stood rooted to the spot in the hall while the staff rushed in around him. Monitors began screeching again and there was chaos, but Steve could only stare. He must’ve locked his knees or something, because he passed out not long after the others.

"This man should already be dead," one of the nurses commented as she palpated the crushed rib cage.

The doctor beside her shook his head. "When Scarlet Witch says live, you live." So Tony would survive because Wanda Maximoff had declared it so. Stephen Strange used more magic than he was prepared to in order to save a close friend, and both sorcerers would sleep for the next three days, recovering. With the magic removed, Tony’s nanobots could help hold his bones together while they began healing, instead of him needing metal rods everywhere. Steve was made fun of for months for fainting when he hadn’t even done anything, but secretly they all just needed something to laugh about to mitigate the shock of the situation.

Mr. Doll, Nathan Dolly, was run over by a semi-truck the next week. No one would ever know the connection between the events.


	18. Cryptid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil Coulson had never seen two grown men this into a debate about Bigfoot. That's right, Bigfoot. He watched from his perch in the corner of the room while Tony and Clint argued back and forth about the existence of the furry beast. They were both drunk, and somewhere between giggly and screaming. Phil wasn't sure he even needed to watch movies anymore when he had entertainment like this right at home.
> 
> The story of how Tony and Clint went camping, just to try and find Bigfoot, and came back a little closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter makes a reference to the chapter "Revenge."_
> 
> I love Tony and Clint together. I think their banter is hilarious, and my running headcanon that they are hyper-competitive and prank each other keeps me going sometimes. So, I decided they needed some alone time. Also 'Tony Talks' are now a part of my avengers family. Take that as you will.
> 
> Warnings for vague discussion of alcohol abuse, and mentions of child abuse.
> 
> Please comment with your thoughts on the existence of Bigfoot, or any other cryptids for that matter. I love cryptid talk.

"There is no way in Hell that he exists and I haven’t seen him," Clint insisted. "I’ve been all over North America and hunted in every forest. If Bigfoot was real, I would have seen him, and probably shot him. I’m Hawkeye for god’s sake!"

Tony clicked on another blurry video of the supposed cryptid. "You of all people, Clint," he shook his head. "I thought if anyone would be a believer-"

"Me!? I can’t believe you of all people think he could exist! You’re the genius scientist! Why would there be one singular example of a species that has lived all this time, never been caught, or even caught in a clear picture? With modern cameras? You basically have to try to make a picture or video with that bad of quality," the archer gestured wildly at the screen, spilling some of his drink.

Tony jumped to his feet and staggered over to the bar. He was pouring more liquor. This had been his first night off in weeks, and damn, he had needed this. The glass slid away from him as he recorked the bourbon. Tony stared at the spot it had been, confused. Tilting his head and reaching forward to investigate, he suddenly noticed the figure in his periphery he somehow hadn’t noticed. Maybe he should stop.

Phil watched the debacle, amused. It took the genius and embarrassingly long amount of time to notice him sitting there at the bar. "I think you’ve had enough," he commented, and Tony was looking at him blankly. Then it all must have clicked into place, because Tony was laughing and slapping Phil’s shoulder.

"Whatever you say, Agent no-fun, I’m a-okay!" Tony spun on his heel, making to head back towards the couch where Clint was engrossed in yet another video. The two had somehow ended up on the topic of Bigfoot towards the end of movie night, and had been arguing about it since. The world spun just a bit further than he expected, and Tony stumbled, landing half standing, half in Phil’s arms against his lap. He looked up and met the agent’s gaze and winked. "You come here often?" he dropped his voice down to a sultry tone.

Taking everything in stride as usual, Phil just raised an eyebrow, looking down at his inebriated friend. Tony saw the way his lips twitched, though, and he grinned, victorious. An almost smile! That was basically the equivalent of a guffaw from Phil Coulson.

"Hey! Get off my man!" Clint called from the couch. That seemed to remind Tony of their debate. He pushed off Phil, flirtation forgotten, and jumped onto the couch, sticking his socks in Clint’s face. The squawk he let it out was totally worth the ensuing wrestling match that ended up with Tony pinned on the ground.

"Uncle!" Clint let up and Tony rolled over, deciding the floor was fine anyway. "Seriously, though, we’ve been to the Savage Lands! We’ve met monsters galore, plus he could just be a mutant, only one explained. Boom." He threw up a fist in victory.

"You’re cracked. Oh, Steve!" Clint noticed the man enter the room first. Everyone besides the three of them had left the room a long time ago, and Steve was in pajamas now. "Tell your boy-toy that Bigfoot is a myth."

Steve and Phil shared amused expressions across the room. It was nice to see Tony unwinding, though why he was on the floor was a mystery. The brunette propped himself up on his elbows, waiting expectantly for Steve’s input. "Well…"

"Keep in mind that I can withhold sex," Tony interrupted.

"That’s not fair!"

Steve chuckled. "As if you could resist me, Tony. I’d have to say I think he might be real. Buck had a cousin who definitely saw him once."

"A friend of a friend? How cliché," Clint scoffed over Tony’s loud ‘ha!’

"You know what? I’m gonna prove it." Tony sat up, pointing an accusatory finger at his adversary. "You, me, we’re going camping for the weekend. JARVIS, calculate which forest will be most likely to have Bigfoot."

"Of course, Sir."

Steve reached out a hand until Tony took it to stand up. "Come on, Tony, you hate camping. Remember the spider-bite?" That had been a terrible adventure.

"I hate allowing Clint to think he’s won more," he replied very seriously. "Plus this time we’ll actually have a way to call for help if we need it."

"According to the most believable sightings and the climates which would best suit the creature in October, I suggest you camp in Sierra National Forest of California." JARVIS said.

"Wait, don’t I get a say in this?" Clint asked. Tony crossed his arms with a smirk, knowing Clint wasn’t going to pass up the chance to embarrass Tony with a bet. "Okay, you’re right. You’re on, winner gets to choose loser’s songs for the next karaoke night."

"Perfect. We’ll leave tomorrow and come back on Monday." Steve crossed his arms, pursing his lips in annoyance until Tony added, "As long as Cap’s alright with it, that is."

"Fine," he sighed. "But don’t forget how cold it is at night this time of year."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah, mom."

…

One of Tony’s jets was parked outside the western edge of the forest. Grabbing their packs, Tony and Clint began their hike to find a good campsite near coordinates JARVIS gave them where they were most likely to encounter Bigfoot. "How are we going to entertain ourselves for three days?" Clint asked, mostly thinking aloud as they walked.

Tony thought about that, realizing he had never spent this much time with just Clint before. What if they got sick of each other? What did Clint like to do? Tony assumed he probably enjoyed shooting things, knew he enjoyed video games but that wasn’t really possible out here… "Good question. We could play games or something, maybe you could teach me to shoot with a bow."

The way the archer’s head whipped around with a wide grin was a little scary. "You’d really want to learn? I could show you so many tricks!"

Tony held up his hands, "Whoa there, Robin Hood, don’t get ahead of yourself. I’ve never even shot a regular target with your primitive weaponry."

Clint got that mischievous glint to his eyes that Tony had learned to be wary of. You’ll regret calling my weaponry primitive by the end of this weekend, mark my words.

Tony smirked. "I doubt it. I was a weapons designer, remember? A handgun seems a bit primitive to me."

The archer raised both eyebrows in disbelief, the hint of laughter there. "We’ll see." He turned as they continued walking and scanning for a good spot to set up camp. "Anyway, I’d actually enjoy teaching you to shoot, I think. Nobody is ever really interested in it."

"Yeah, it could be fun," Tony replied warmly. "I like learning new skills." They came upon a small clearing that seemed as good a spot as any and wordlessly agreed to set up camp. That finished, Clint’s stomach decided it was the perfect time to rumble. "Let’s save the lessons for later though, you sound hungry. You hunt I’ll make a fire?"

"Sounds good to me. I bet I can have an animal ready to be cooked before you finish setting up the fire," Clint prodded, wiggling his eyebrows. It was a stupid look.

"Oh, you’re on." They both took off in opposite directions in a rush, Clint with his bow, and Tony to gather wood. Clint may be a perfect shot, but he was crazy if he thought he’d win this one. He had to find an animal, kill it, lug it back, skin it, and butcher it. All Tony had to do was gather wood, use some rocks to border a pit, and get some tinder. It’d be a piece of cake.

The last log of Tony’s little log cabin pyramid set up he had going and stepped back to admire his work. If Tony Stark was going to build a fire, it was going to be the best fire you’ve ever seen. He wondered idly if the two of them were capable of not competing. Looking back, everything they did tended to take on at least a slightly competitive quality. The curiosity as to why, now that he’d noticed it, was going to eat him up until he figured it out. Maybe Clint would have a good idea about it.

The tinder on top of the base, surrounded by the other logs above and beside, was not lighting the way it should. Clint had already dragged back a mule deer and was nearly finished skinning the giant buck, and Tony’s perfect setup wouldn’t light. He had read plenty on camping, used to do it with JARVIS even, Tony knew how to start a fire, damnit. The problem was that everything was damp. He hadn’t noticed it on the hike here, but it must’ve rained recently. That damn hawkeyed archer had probably noticed it and that’s why he was so confident in the bet. Tony narrowed his eyes in concentration, Clint was forgetting that he was a genius. He’d solve this.

"Having trouble over there?" Clint asked smugly.

"No, you?" Tony shot back.

"Nope! Almost finished."

"Good for you," Tony muttered. Remembering an accident that happened once in the lab, he suddenly had an idea. The flurry of movement caught Clint off guard, and he watched with interest as Tony pulled out his cell phone and quickly disassembled it, holding up the battery in triumph. "You lose, Barton!" Clint gaped in a mixture of awe and horror as Tony reached up his shirt and pulled out the arc reactor. Tony’s face only showed a small twitch that indicated Tony feeling a thing. Tony took the wire that connected the reactor to the electromagnet, and touched it to the uncovered metal of his phone’s lithium ion battery. The resulting sparks were numerous, and hotter than what someone can get with banging rocks together or twirling sticks by hand. Despite the dampness, the kindling burst into flame, and the fire continued to burn steadily after that. Tony yanked his hands back, only catching a few sparks on his skin. "Agh! Youch, that’s hot." He hissed. Sitting back from his crouch and recasing the reactor, Tony met Clint’s stare with a satisfied grin.

Tony Stark was a madman. Clint couldn’t believe he was only just now finding out. They had lived together and worked together for years, but he had never imagined how mad the genius was. "What the actual fuck?" he blurted out.

Not the reaction he had been expecting, Tony studied Clint’s horrified expression. "What do you mean?" He gestured to the fire he had created with his genius, "Fire lit, I win."

"You took out the thing that keeps you alive and destroyed your cell phone just to win a stupid contest against me!?" Clint’s voice rose a few octaves. He was kind of feeling off-kilter. Maybe going to the woods alone with a mad-scientist wasn’t a great idea. At least for his mental health.

Somehow, Tony looked even more confused. "It’s not like I die if it’s only out for a few seconds, chill. Plus I’m a billionaire, maybe trillionaire I don’t remember, Pepper would know, but the point is I can replace my phone battery no problem. You’re just salty I won." Tony crossed his arms with a smugness the situation surely did not warrant. "C’mon, get the food finished, I’m hungry."

The archer shook his head in disbelief, returning to his work. When Tony put it that way, it seemed almost logical, but Tony always managed to make crazy things sound logical. The man had burned himself with sparks from a device he needed to live like the risk was a non-factor. He was bringing this up next time Cap or Phil tried to harass him for being reckless. Tony made him look like the most cautious man alive. He decided to put the image of Tony pulling out the reactor out of his head. It was playing over and over in his mind, and Clint wouldn’t have thought he’d be so affected by a simple action like that, but to him it had looked akin to someone stabbing themselves or something. And that was his friend, his family member. All of the Avengers probably subconsciously equated the blue light in Tony’s chest with him being alive.

By the time they were done eating and packing away the leftovers in bear-proof, freshness-preserving containers of Tony’s design for dinner, it was somewhere in the late afternoon. "So," Clint ventured. "How are we going to find your mythical creature?"

"Possibly mythical," Tony corrected automatically. "I thought about the spread of sightings and decided that Bigfoot is most likely a species and not just one creature, but it probably doesn’t live in packs, given that no one has ever seen multiple together."

Clint rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe Tony believed this stuff. "Or that I’ve never seen any," he muttered.

"Hush. You asked for the plan. Anyway, I think we can stay within this one general area, because each Bigfoot probably stays within their territory that they mark, probably with urine. It’d be much harder to find one in three days if we were going on the assumption of only one in the entirety of this forest. JARVIS and I agree that the species is probably nocturnal, so I thought you and I could take shifts at night a little ways away to see if we can spot him, since he probably wouldn’t approach the campsite." Tony rummaged around in the tent behind him, pulling out his bag. "I brought us night-vision goggles!" he held them up in excitement.

Clint snatched one, examining it closely. "You thought this through more than I expected," he admitted finally.

"Well duh, I think everything through," Tony scoffed. Given the myriad of instances Clint could cite where that was clearly not the case, he decided it was a pointless debate. He would never win it without one of the others to back him up.

"We’ve got lots of daylight left, then, wanna learn to shoot?"

Tony shrugged. "Sure, why not."

They practiced for hours. Tony was surprisingly promising for a novice, but he struggled to hold the arrow back without shaking, which made aim difficult. "I’m trying to be still, but it’s so hard to pull back!" he whined. Clint laughed but with no malice. He could still remember what building up the muscles for this was like, and Tony probably never needed to use his trapezius, deltoid, and triceps with his fighting style. The man was lean and strong, had to be to pilot the suit, but his upper back was not his strong suit. "I’m going to be so sore tomorrow," Tony sighed, letting loose another shaky arrow.

"You’re a natural though," Clint encouraged. Tony scowled like he didn’t believe it. "What, would I be the one to lie to make you feel better?"

"You’ve got a point, bird-brain." They got dinner and decided Clint would take the first shift of the night, since Tony’s body was more worn out from their archery lessons. Clint decided to talk Tony into something more relaxing tomorrow.

…

The night had been uneventful and boring as hell. Clint nearly fell asleep on his branch a couple times purely out of boredom. Tony reported a similar experience, but was still confident in his endeavor to prove the existence to Clint. Plus, the weekend was going to be a success for him either way.

"We should go swimming today," Clint decided halfway through their late morning meal. It was nice to have no schedule to keep, and he was actually shocked that Tony had come up with the idea given this was usually his crazy work month. Whatever was motivating the change, Clint enjoyed a less manic Tony. The genius could get too high strung.

Tony spluttered a little, coughing before drinking some more to calm down. Clint hadn’t even noticed that he was drinking from a flask, and not his water bottle. He frowned. "Perhaps not," Tony finally managed. When no further explanation came, Clint pressed it.

"Why?"

"Because I don’t want to," Tony snapped. He looked surprised himself at the harsh reaction. "Sorry, I just, I don’t like swimming." The discomfort was obvious.

This wasn’t their thing, Tony and Clint didn’t talk feelings, they goofed around and teased each other. Everyone on the team had had at least one of their ‘Tony Talks’ as they had been deemed, everyone except Clint. Clint heard about them only in hearsay, but a Tony Talk was apparently always eye-opening for both parties. Tony kept things close to his chest for the most part, Clint did too, so whenever a Tony Talk did happen, whether it was because the two people got really drunk, or because a duo mission got unexpectedly serious and adrenaline pushed truths out of the closet, it was a big deal.

Clint never took it personally, their relationship was fine as it was. Friendly rivalry and casual fun defined most of it, but they both knew they’d do anything for each other. And if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he wanted a Tony Talk. There’s no way he would escape without revealing himself as well, and there was a reason only Nat and Phil really knew him. Giving people your trust was a very dangerous game. Whenever he thought about trying to be more open, Barney’s face haunted his dreams to remind him that even your brother can turn on you.

But Tony and he were gonna be here all weekend. Maybe this was finally the time to let their relationship grow, even if only a little. Plus, Tony had chosen to take a break in his busy schedule to go on a trip with him. There had to be something more to that than just Bigfoot, right? Tony hated camping. He felt like he owed it to the genius a little to try to be there, not just shrug off the man’s discomfort.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly. Tony looked over, surprised, then quickly averted his eyes.

"I mean, it’s not a big deal," he muttered.

And Clint could leave it at that. But this was so uncharacteristic of Tony. He was usually all bravado and deflection, this seemed unsure. The man who practically lead the Avengers as much as Cap made it clear when you weren’t allowed to broach a subject. This was only a half-hearted deflection; Clint took the leap that he wanted it pushed. "Tony, look at me." Tony looked like it pained him to do so, but he also looked grateful when he saw that Clint was taking this seriously. "It clearly is something, and you need to know you can tell me anything. I know we fool around a lot, but I would never make fun of you for anything real. You know that, right?"

Tony nodded. He bit his lip, unsure. "I know, it just always sounds stupid when I say it out loud." He shifted into a more comfortable decision. "I don’t like it when people see my chest," he admitted with a blush.

That… was not at all where Clint had thought this was going. He kind of thought they were going to get into a PTSD talk about the torture in Afghanistan, which Tony’s file was vague on but Clint knew it involved semi-drowning. The bastards hadn’t even waterboarded Tony, no, they literally held him down in barrels. The risk of actually drowning was real. But no, now that he thought about it, Clint had never seen Tony shirtless. He’d seen pictures of course, anyone with the internet could, but they were all from before the arc reactor. Clint wondered if all the women Tony had still had one night stands with after had seen him, or if he’d just kept his shirt on during sex. "I don’t have any glowing parts, but I’ll show you my scars if you show me yours?" he tried to keep it light, let Tony know it was okay if he didn’t want to, but toe the line so the man didn’t think he was being mocked.

Tony studied his friend’s face. And they were friends, he knew that, but he also knew that he and Clint had never really talked about serious stuff. There was sort of an unspoken agreement that if one of them came to the other upset, it was to escape talking about it, to escape everything and just get drunk and be stupid. This was new territory, but Clint didn’t show any hint of this being a game. "You first." he eventually broke the yawning silence between them.

Clint didn’t say anything, just took off his t-shirt and placed it in his lap. He had never been self-conscious about his body before, but being studied made him feel a little like squirming.

"Tell me what they’re from, please," Tony said quietly. It was so strangely intimate, but it also didn’t feel weird like it should. This was his drinking buddy, but also the guy who had to have his back on the battlefield. If he could let Tony hold his life in his hands, which he definitely has before, then he can talk about scars.

So he did. "This one here was from my dad, where the belt buckle caught me just right," Tony just nodded, face blank. "Um, this one was me getting caught on a barbed wire fence while robbing a mansion, that was in my Circus of Crime days. These two are both stab wounds from pocket knives in different bar fights. The one over here is from Barney." Clint swallowed. Tony gave him a small smile; it said ‘I understand.’ "And this one was a sniper shot in Budapest. I can’t really remember the smaller ones." He shrugged. There were so many scars over the years, it wasn’t really possible to keep track.

Tony scrubbed his hands over his face, looking his age for once. It was easy to forget that he was older than most of them, well, older than all the naturally aging people. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to do that, this is so weird, I’m being stupid."

"No, you’re not," Clint cut him off. "And it’s okay. Sometimes things have to be a little weird to feel safe. We’re family. If talking about scars makes you feel okay about yours, then I have no problems with it."

Tony looked so lost for a moment, eyes glassy, but he blinked and he was fine. Clint could almost believe he had imagined it if Tony didn’t take a long drag from the flask he brought. "Right. Yeah. Um," he paused, "oh fuck it." He pulled off his t-shirt and it all made a little more sense.

Sure, Clint had a lot of scars, like anyone in the hero business that didn’t have special healing factors, but Tony’s scars weren’t normal. The skin around the arc reactor was all scar tissue, jagged and pink, with longer scars here and there jutting out like hands on a clock. It had never really occurred to Clint before just how much of Tony’s chest must be missing. A lot of the sternum was probably gone, which meant the ribs there were probably a little more free floating than they should be. That or wedged against the metal. There’s no way his heart and lungs weren’t being pushed out of the way by it, misplaced. He knew how big the reactor was, how had he never thought about this?

The rest of Tony’s obvious scars were ones Clint knew about, things that had happened since the Avengers Initiative began.There were other smaller ones, but they might as well be invisible next to the chest piece. Clint realized he had been staring, and looked up to see Tony watching him nervously. "I don’t really need to tell you what they’re from, do I?" he asked, sarcastic smile plastered on his face in an attempt to hide the fear. This is when Tony always expected people to run screaming.

Clint allowed his own lips to form a lopsided smile. "No, I suppose you don’t. Thank you, for trusting me."

Tony gave a jerky nod. "Let’s just get it out of the way, because I know you’re thinking about it. Ask whatever questions you want then we can go swimming and stop being mushy."

The bluntness surprised a laugh out of Clint. "That’s fair, I am curious. Does it affect your breathing?"

"My lung capacity is diminished by about 40%, a little more on my left than on the right since my heart’s being shoved over that way."

"Do you feel it?"

"Everyday. I forget about it sometimes, but it’s still that cold, hard, knot in my chest making it harder to breathe. It took a long time to get used to."

"Does the casing ever burn you?"

Tony actually chuckled, and it seemed like this was getting easier. "Well I can’t go suntanning anymore. Actually, the bigger problem is in the cold, the metal gets colder quicker, and it kind of saps the heat away from its surrounding. So I get hypothermia a lot easier. I think the scar tissue is the only reason I haven’t gotten frostbite from it."

"I can’t believe you built that in a cave," Clint admitted. It was probably the one thing that had always impressed him the most about Tony.

"It’s not like I wasn’t surrounded by tech to scavenge from," Tony shrugged it off. "They gave me whatever I asked for, thought I was building a bomb."

"Just take the compliment, shellhead. Let’s go swimming."

…

Somehow a relaxing swim in the stream turned into another contest. Tony decided that they should race. When that ended predictably (hadn’t they just talked about Tony’s lack of lung capacity?) Tony suggested they see who can catch a fish with their bare hands first. Clint almost felt bad when he won that too, the way Tony slumped in defeat for a moment, but it was quickly shrugged off. Overall they had a good time.

They decided to stick with the same schedule for watch that night. Tony was confident that this was the night. Bigfoot was gonna show. Clint nestled into another tree with his night-vision goggles on, bow on his back. He scanned the forest, seeing the occasional fox and hearing some coyotes in the distance. The wind chill was worse up in the trees, so he hugged his arms around himself to keep warm. It seemed a little unbelievable if he let himself think to hard about the fact that he was sitting in a tree in California in the middle of the night all because Thor had asked about the ‘Midgardian Bigfoot’ he had heard about on the ‘internets.’

Tony was ready. It hadn’t been part of the plan to have a heart to heart that day, but it definitely worked in his favor. Clint’s guard was down more than usual. He seemed slightly less hypervigilant than usual around Tony, and it had to be a subconscious trust thing. Granted, slightly less hypervigilant from the great Hawkeye still meant very hypervigilant, but this was Tony’s best chance for revenge. Tony was going to break Clint’s winning streak in their scream contest this year if it killed him. Well, not literally. Probably.

Natasha had been helping him learn to sneak better. He was already naturally light on his feet, plus he had the advantage of being light, but no one was better suited to sneaking than Black widow. Tony liked to think he had gotten pretty good. The tent made no sound as he exited, and he carefully avoided every leaf or twig as he approached the tree Clint was in. He looked up, studying his best chance, calculating lengths from one branch to another compared to his arm’s reach, as well as which branches could most likely hold his weight. Plan mapped out, he silently began the climb up the tree behind Clint’s. The archer wasn’t even scanning in the direction of the tent since they assumed that’s not where Bigfoot would be.

The slight rustle in the leaves above Clint only happened during a breeze, so he thought nothing of it. Just once, he heard a sudden rustling noise, but when he looked up, a bird was flying away into the night. There was no reason to expect anyone out here. It was an impromptu trip. So when the branch just behind him made a cracking noise, he moved on instinct, decades of training taking over in an instant.

Of course the last fucking branch was Tony’s only miscalculation. It must have already been structurally compromised on the underside, because it was definitely big enough to hold his weight with no sound this close to the tree trunk. The cracking sound gave him away, so it was now or never. "Boo!" he yelled as loud as possible just as Clint screamed and suddenly he was falling backward.

The archer watched helplessly while Tony fell to the ground below, the thump of his body landing in dead leaves and rolling a little making him wince. How had he thought sneaking up on a trained SHIELD agent was a good plan? Clint had efficiently flipped the assailant over, knocking each hand roughly to disarm him in case, and let go to watch them fall. There was no way he could’ve known it was Tony until it was too late. Everything had happened so fast, plus with the night vision goggles on, Tony looked kind of like a blurry bright blob, details like his goatee disappearing in the resolution of the lenses. Clint took the goggles off and strapped them to his belt, quickly climbing down after Tony. His natural night vision was better anyway.

"Tony! Oh my god, please be alive."

Tony was still lying on the ground, but Clint could see he was moving as he neared the bottom. He groaned. "I win!" he taunted, raising his head to look at Clint before dropping it back to the ground. "Ow."

Clint knelt down beside him, doing a cursory once over. "You are not seriously talking about the damn scream contest right now, are you?" This solidified Clint’s theory from the day before. Tony was an actual mad man.

"But I finally beat you," Tony actually whined. Clint kind of wanted to slap him.

"Where are you hurt?" he asked instead.

Tony went to sit up, hissing when he moved his left arm. Clint let him use his shoulder to grip with the uninjured arm and helped the man sit up. "Not sure." Tony wiggled different parts of his body, occasional hisses and yelps. "Definitely left shoulder and arm, right ankle, and possibly a couple ribs. I must’ve done something to my ankle on the branch when you ninja-flipped me, and landed on my left side, although better than my neck I suppose," he added as an afterthought.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Clint let his anger out, now that he knew Tony wasn’t dying or something. "You know I’m a trained combatant, that sneaking up on me in the dark, in a tree no less, is a terrible idea! Probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, and honestly? I thought you were supposed to be a genius and I let it go when you _pulled out your reactor_ just to start a fire faster but seriously, _what is wrong with you!?_"

Tony was staring at him petulantly, and Clint was reminded of a toddler in trouble. "Can I answer now or do you need to let off more steam?" he had the gall to be sarcastic and raise an unimpressed eyebrow at Clint. He was so tempted to punch the man in the nose and honestly? He’d probably do it if Steve wouldn’t kill him for it.

"That’s it, I’m leaving you here on your own. You can figure out how to hop on one leg back to camp because I can’t handle you right now." He stood up and began to walk away.

He couldn’t actually be walking away, right? He was joking, he had to be. "Wait! No, I’ll shut up just help me get to the tent at least."

Clint closed his eyes and counted to ten. How Steve dealt with this all the time was a mystery for the ages. He walked back and silently helped the smaller man up, to lean on him. Tony kept his mouth shut, limping back to camp, where Clint unceremoniously dropped him outside the tent. The fire was still slightly burning embers, so he scooted over, shivering. Clint watched him curl up, one arm cradled awkwardly to his chest, the other wrapped around his knees, and his injured ankle gingerly placed on the ground while he just stared into the glowing embers with a thousand-yard-stare.

The sight made Tony look so small. The anger bled out of Clint, leaving behind exhaustion and pity. He sighed, setting about to rekindle the flames. When he settled down on the other side of the fire, Tony still hadn’t looked away from the flames. "Look," Clint said tiredly, but Tony didn’t react. "I’m sorry I flew off the handle," he tried.

Tony shook his head slightly, almost imperceptible. His lips barely moved as he murmured, "Don’t apologize, I deserved it."

This was going nowhere. He was clearly in one of his Stark-patented sulks. "I guess we’ll leave in the morning?" Tony made a movement that might have been a one armed shrug, but it was hard to tell. Clint thought he caught a mumbled ‘yeah, whatever’ but his hearing aids could only do so much. "Tony, please, talk to me."

His eyes slid up, meeting Clint’s, but he otherwise remained unmoved. "What."

God, it was like pulling teeth. Clint growled in frustration, tugging at his hair for a moment. "Can you just, I don’t know, explain it to me?"

"Explain what? I’m really not sure why you’re mad at me," Tony finally reacted, shifting to face Clint more fully. He looked stricken. "I thought we were having a fun weekend, and then I find out you’ve been, I don’t know, sitting on something about the arc reactor instead of just telling me you were upset, and I don’t know what to think! I can get it if you hate me, it would make sense, but this up and down where one minute you’re telling me about your scars so I’ll feel better and the next you’re yelling at me like a child, I just don’t know what you want."

The sudden, overwhelming desire to laugh took hold of Clint for a moment, but he thankfully stifled it. There’s no way Tony would take that well. "I’m not really sure how we got to this point either, to be honest. I think," but Tony stopped him with a finger in a ‘wait a minute’ gesture.

"If we’re about to really get into this, I need to get comfortable," he started trying to scoot himself over toward the tent with one leg, on his butt, and only the opposite arm to balance. It was stupid. Clint jumped up and was over to the tent in minutes.

"For god’s sake, Tony, just ask me to get something for you."

"Fine." And he didn’t need to look so offended at being helped. "Can you grab me my hoodie jacket with the flask?"

Clint watched Tony take a long drag of his liquor while he settled himself back on the ground. Tony motioned with his hand for Clint to continue from before, placing the hoodie on his lap like a blanket. "Okay, that for one. Why do you have a flask this weekend? Do you always have one?"

Tony stared at the container in his hand. "Old habits, I guess. My dear old dad gave me my first one when I was a kid. Always having it with me kind of made me feel like we had something in common." The bitterness laced through his words. It did give them something in common, Tony knew it. He probably drank too much. But he never piloted the armour drunk, didn’t put others at risk, and that was good enough for him.

"Scratch that, that’s a can of worms we can save for another time." Tony grimaced but said nothing. "I think there’s been some undercurrent to our interactions lately that I’m not sure what it is, but there’s a tension. Like none of our games are just games anymore, maybe."

Tony thought about that. "You might be onto something. I admit I’ve been even more averse to losing than usual."

"I’ll take some of the blame for that, too." Clint admitted. "I compete with everyone, but I definitely feel more invested when it’s you."

Tony nodded, like that rang true for him as well. "You’re my only competition," he said.

That stopped Clint’s line of thought short. "What? Why?"

Tony unscrewed the flask, thought better of it, and screwed it shut again. "Well think about it. Out of the official team, Coulson not included because he helps more in the background, you’re the only other normal human. You and I don’t have anything but our natural skills and tech."

A lot of little things began to click into place for Clint. "This is about belonging on the Avengers, isn’t it," it wasn’t a question. Tony nodded, expression twisted in a self-deprecating smile. "I can relate to that. We both have to work harder to keep up with the others. I always thought that’s why we worked so well together, we have to hold each other up to the standards of all the powered ups. I don’t want it to be a competition where one of us belongs and the other doesn’t, I would lose." He let out his own self-deprecating chuckle.

"You’ve got to be kidding me, you win at everything! My only thing is my genius, and you’re plenty intelligent yourself, so where does that leave me? Sure, I’ve got the money, but I’ll keep funding everyone even after I die. And I’m not going to be able to do this forever, I’m getting older, what if I get alzheimer's or something?" There was a frantic note to his tone.

"And what if I go blind or get a permanent injury? Tony, any one of us could be permanently benched for a number of reasons, except maybe Thor. Even Bruce sometimes can’t control the Hulk, and that makes him a liability. Steve and Nat are hardly invulnerable. That’s the business, everything is fluid and tentative."

Fuck it. Tony took another couple swallows from the flask. "What are we supposed to do with ourselves when we’re done with the Avengers?"

Clint shrugged. It was something he had definitely thought about, but he preferred to deal with problems as they came. Tony was the one always stuck in the possible futures. "We’ll always be a family."

"Yeah I guess you’re right." They sat in companionable silence for a while, just listening to the crackle of burning wood. "Oh!" Clint startled from his thoughts, glancing up. "Where are your night vision goggles?"

"Uh, I think I left them on the ground when you fell."

Tony tossed his over. "Here, take mine and go get them."

Clint groaned. "Do I have to? It’s not like you can’t afford new ones."

"Quit your griping, birdbrain. I built cameras into them so we could catch Bigfoot on film! What if he showed up while we were gone?" Tony grinned in excitement.

"You’ve got to be kidding me! I was starting to think maybe this was all a ploy just for the sneaking up on me, but no, you really think there’s a cryptid out there."

Tony looked personally affronted. "Of course I do. Cryptids are everywhere, you sad, sad, nonbeliever."

The walk back the next morning was slow. Tony had to take a few breaks, but these injuries were child’s play for them. They were still able to joke around and have fun while they walked. "I can’t believe I finally got a Tony Talk," Clint thought aloud as they neared the jet.

"A what?" Tony shot him an amused look.

"Oh my god, you don’t know?" They settled into their seats after Clint packed everything in.

"Know what!" Tony exclaimed impatiently.

Clint laughed. "They’re a legend. Everyone on the team had had a Tony Talk but me. It’s like a rare look at the real you that’s supposed to always be life altering."

Tony scoffed. "That’s ridiculous, you’re making this up. Sounds like a Ted Talk."

Clint just shook his head, smiling knowingly. "Don’t believe me? Ask the others."

…

The Avengers had been gathered into the movie room to watch whatever Tony was demanding they watch. Everyone had already finished scolding the man for coming back from simple camping all banged up. The previous evening’s dinner had consisted of a series of lectures, followed by a hilariously flustered Tony finding out that yes, Tony Talks were a thing. He had fled the scene then, spending the night in his lab reviewing footage from their night vision goggles.

"Alright, what is this all about?" Steve asked.

"JARVIS queue up the segment we talked about. Lady and gentleman, I present to you, Bigfoot!"

Clint jumped forward off the couch, watching the footage carefully. It was clearly from his goggles on the second night, the angle odd from their spot on the ground. Sure enough, an unnaturally large humanoid figure strutted across the scene, slowed down to a frame by frame. Showed again at normal speed, the furry figure was a blur across the screen. Whatever it was was fast. Unfortunately, because it was night vision footage, Clint couldn’t make out the fine details, but even he had to admit it looked like a Bigfoot. "I can’t believe it," he whispered as Tony cackled maniacally.


	19. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct continuation to chapter 4, Curse. Tony and Clint are injured, and stuck in SHIELD medical. Phil and Steve are not new to being the boyfriend at a hospital bedside. At least they have each other, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't _need_ to read Curse first, but it's more fun that way. As promised, any of these chapters can be read as one shots, and some of them are not even compatible with each other as one timeline, but this one is a continuation.
> 
> I tried to capture a glimpse of the overall weirdness of being stuck in the hospital, both as the patient or the visitor. I've been both, as well as staff, and hospitals really feel like another universe sometimes. This one was going to be all fluffy and nice, but it's me, so it turned into a bit of a continuation to hurting Tony. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ It's still mostly just avengers being a family for each other, I swear.

Iron man was still standing but the reactor was dim and flickering. Clint might very well be dead soon if not already and Tony was going to die if the reactor failed and he couldn’t take this. He made it to his boyfriend’s side in time to watch the armour land flat on it’s back. Steve couldn’t see Tony’s expression when he lifted the faceplate, his tears leaving everything blurry. The reactor finally went dark and Tony arched his back, gasping.

Steve scrubbed his tears out of the way so he could get a proper look. He was already taking apart the suit, muscle memory taking over. "Tony what did you do?" he asked miserably. Tony was going to die and he had just saved New York _again_ and he needed Tony. Tony was home and everything he loved about the 21st century.

" It’s complicated," Tony ground out. He tried to give Steve a reassuring smile because the man looked so miserable and Captain America should never be that sad. Steve Rogers should never be that sad. He knew it was more of a grimace and it was hard to breath. The pain was growing with every second and he was dying. "Clint," he managed.

"Is already being taken to medical," Agent Coulson was looking down at Tony from behind the kneeling Captain. Tony saw the gratefulness in the man’s eyes and it had all been worth it. He was on a stretcher and Steve wasn’t pulled away. Tony finally let his eyes slide shut, and the world went black.

…

Clint and Tony shared a room. Clint had lost a decent amount of blood, and while Tony’s repulsor blast cauterization had saved his life, it left a very nasty burn scar surrounding the wound, the stitched shut gash luckily not needing a skin-graft. Tony was lucky if he avoided cardiac damage, which at this point, he might just have to invent a mechanical heart or something. The two of them were stable and asleep, the only sounds in the room their soft breathing and medical machines.

It was extremely abnormal for injured Avengers not to have at least one teammate at their side at all times, but this had been an abnormal circumstance. After Tony and Clint had been stabilized, everyone went to the tower to sleep. The lack of sleep from the curse left everyone dangerously exhausted, and Steve was the first to wake up two days later, starving.

Thor was next, followed by Natasha and Phil, and lastly Bruce. They all woke to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through the tower. Steve had cooked up a large feast, knowing he wouldn’t be the only one who would awaken hungry.

"I thank thee verily, Captain!" Thor boomed, holding out a mug towards Steve in the manner of giving a toast. Steve smiled tiredly at him. Sometimes, Thor liked to deliberately be over the top with his language, and they all knew it. He could blend in just fine when he wanted, but the shakespearean vibe was part of his charm.

In general, the tower was quieter than usual, subdued. A lot had happened recently, and everyone was handling it in their own way. "I would guess that Tony and Clint will probably sleep another day or so," Natasha said quietly when the food began to dwindle.

Phil looked over at Steve. They were probably feeling similarly, and an empathetic friend could do them both some good right now. "Want to ride together to the hospital?" he offered. Steve looked so grateful, Phil was glad he had said something.

"That would be nice, I think."

"You two go get ready and get going, we’ll take care of cleanup," Bruce said, standing. He knew Steve would feel obligated to do the dishes if someone else didn’t volunteer first, even though he had been the one to cook all the food. The tired and worried men gave him relieved smiles, and hurried off to shower and leave.

The ride to the hospital was quiet, but not awkward. Steve and Phil were unfortunately used to this. Dating the two team members who got injured the most was an emotionally taxing lifestyle. Neither of them were sure they could continue of they didn’t have each other to lean on. "I’ll get us some coffees while you grab some visitor badges?" Phil offered. He couldn’t remember who’s turn it was, but they both knew each other's’ hospital coffee preferences by now.

"Sure."

When Phil got to the room, he stopped in the doorway to take in the scene. Steve had settled into a chair beside Tony on the outside of the bed, and another chair waited for Phil on the opposite side of the room. He looked at Clint first, the majority of his abdomen covered in bandages, he was more obviously injured. Looking at Tony, one could fool themself into thinking he was fine, except the man was hooked up to far more wires and monitors mixed in with the matching IV and tubes that Clint had. They both had visible bags under their eyes, but were deep asleep.

He closed the door behind him with his foot, and the sound alerted Steve to his presence. "Thanks," he murmured, taking the coffee and hunching around it while he held it with both hands. Phil sat down in a similar position across the room. Neither of them were normally big coffee drinkers, but it was always comforting to hold the warm cup in a cold hospital room, and drinking bad hospital coffee was almost a tradition. "Do you think they’re dreaming?"

Phil studied his boyfriend’s face. "Probably off and on," he decided. "At least they’re not comatose, right?" Both men gave a half-hearted laugh.

"Right," Steve agreed. They remained like that, in companionable silence, for hours. Hospital staff came in and out, checking on monitors and changing dressing, but the two visitors were left alone. Phil was glad the others hadn’t come today, and he made a mental note to text Natasha later that they should wait until the injured were awake before visiting. Something told him that Steve would also appreciate having less people around.

Steve had learned in childhood that hospitals have a way of warping time. Sometimes an hour seemed to pass in minutes, while other times it felt like days. The pattern wasn’t consistent either, not obviously swayed by stress level or anything. The speed of time just seemed to ebb and flow with a mind of its own. He only remembered to eat because he happened to look up at the clock in time to note that the cafeteria would be closing soon. "I’m gonna go grab food, do you want your usual?"

"Sounds good to me."

Steve thought about Phil while he walked to the cafeteria. The man was very stoic, had been for as long as Steve knew him, but Steve could pick up on the subtleties of his expressions by now. The agent was a nice addition to the tower, a calm voice of reason to a group of arguably crazy people. He wondered what Phil had been like before SHIELD, if he had always been so subdued and deadpan, or if it was a result of the career path he took.

They ate their food in silence. When Phil finished his salad, he pulled out a pack of cards. "Wanna play?"

Steve glanced around the room. "Sure, we can fit that table between the beds?"

Phil’s smile was a small quirk at the corners of his mouth. Anything more was typically reserved for Clint. "Perfect."

…

When Tony came to, it was to the sound of card shuffling. His eyelids felt like they were glued shut, and he had to raise his hands to wipe away the crust. The room was thankfully dim, only about half of the lights on. Other than the familiar ache of sleeping too long, he felt generally alright, just tired. What was the last thing he remembered? Oh!

The sudden flurry of movement behind Steve startled both of the men playing cards. Steve managed to keep Tony from falling out of his bed when he tried to jump up, realized he was connected to too many things, and then got dizzy anyway. "Whoa, sorry, oh thank god Clint’s okay." Having checked on that, Tony laid back in relief. Now that he had the chance to look at what else was going on in the room, he saw what Steve and Phil were doing. ">Oh my god, you old men. Are you seriously playing Rummy?"

Steve leaned over him, and Tony wasn’t going to argue with a kiss. When Steve pulled back sharply, it was because one of the monitors attached to Tony’s chest was beeping at the change angrily. A nurse came in then, alerted by the change, to check on them. "Oh good, you’re awake."

"So I am," he smirked, lying back against the headrest. "Can I be unhooked from all this now? I’m fine."

The nurse shook her head. "That’s not my call Mr. Stark, but I’ll call the doctor to come talk to you shortly. Can I get you anything?"

"Is it open bar?"

"Tony!" Steve admonished, but the nurse only laughed as she left.

The increase in sound caused Clint to stir. Everyone froze, watching him groan, putting a hand to his wounded side, feeling the bandages, then letting his eyelids flutter open. "Awesome, not dead," he rasped, looking at the ceiling. He turned his head, eyes catching on Phil’s immediately. He made grabby hands until Phil complied, leaning in for a quick kiss and sitting on the bed’s edge. "Miss me, babe?"

Phil shook his head, smiling and actually blushing. Tony didn’t know the agent could blush. "You already know the answer to that." They leaned in for another, longer kiss, and Clint’s monitor didn’t do anything annoying, why can’t Tony have nice kisses? Not that Clint was all that better, because when Phil moved to separate them, he tried to follow, only to be painfully reminded of the wound. He let out a long groan.

"Gotta say, stab wound and burns is a new combo for me, shellhead."

"Could’ve let you die," Tony responded casually, pretending to examine his nails.

"I didn’t say I was complaining," Clint laughed. "I do love new experiences."

Tony leaned forward so Clint could see him better around the light fixture on the wall between them. "In that case, anytime, sexy," he purred with a wink.

Phil and Steve let out the same long-suffering sigh. Tony had to say, getting hurt with someone else was more fun than alone. Wait, no, that sounded terrible in his head. It’s not that he likes someone else getting hurt, but it was less lonely. Whatever. His brain was not functioning properly. Actually, why had no one brought him coffee yet? "Wait, were you two playing Rummy? God, you’re old geezers." Clint commented loudly.

"That’s what I said!" Tony joined in gleefully.

Steve had opened his mouth to reply, when the sound of the door opening drew everyone’s attention. A woman was standing there, clearly the doctor, taking in the scene before her with a raised brow. "I see you’re all very at home in here."

Steve stood to shake her hand. "We’re not new to it, you can imagine. I’m Steve."

She smiled like she was holding back a laugh. "I’m sure you’re not. I’m Dr. Nicholson, nice to meet you, though I already know who all of you are." She stepped around the card table, studying monitors for both of them as she spoke. "Mr. Barton, how’s the pain level?"

"Yuck, please call me Clint. I’d say a four."

She nodded, taking note on her clipboard. "Good, I’d like to start lowering your morphine drip. The nurse also said your stitches are holding up nicely, although you haven’t really been moving, so we’ll see." She turned to face Tony and she started pressing buttons on of the monitors. "As for you, Mr. Stark," she glanced down to gauge the reaction, picking up quickly, "Tony then. I’m told you wanted your monitors removed."

"Yes, please, I hate these wires everywhere." Tony wiggled them, but she slapped his hand away. Steve glared at him while he pouted.

Dr. Nicholson was taking notes from the monitors and frowning. Tony hated it when a doctor frowned. "Sorry, no can do," she turned to face him, apologetic. "We need to keep monitoring your rhythms, especially since you just went experienced an arrhythmia about fifteen minutes ago."

Tony groaned dramatically. "No, that was because he kissed me," he pointed at Steve. "Blame him, I’m fine."

She chuckled. "Unfortunately, no, you’re not. The kiss may have been a trigger, but we can’t have your heart getting out of rhythm every time a slightly exciting thing happens." She flipped through some pages on her clipboard, scanning them. "We might need to place a pacemaker," she concluded.

Tony was already shaking his head. "No way, that won’t work." He sat forward, "Look, I’m sure you mean well, but-"

"It’s not a matter of meaning well," she cut him off ruthlessly. "If you damaged any part of your heart that controls rhythm, you’ll need a pacemaker. Otherwise you could drop dead anytime."

Steve didn’t have to gasp so loudly. Tony hated the drama of it all if anything was ever actually serious. He took a steadying breath, annoyed at the way his heart rate picked up with anxiety at hearing that his heart might have even more problems. "You don’t understand," he explained calmly. "This," he tapped on the arc reactor, "is powering an electromagnet. Which would obviously interfere with any electronic placed near it."

The woman clearly understood the issue before he had finished explaining, frowning deeply. She wrote down some more notes, a lot, actually, and the room descended into a tense silence. "And I assume you can’t remove that?"

"Nope,"

Tony replied, trying to be light. He was already trying to think of solutions in his head, maybe he could alter the reactor to also be the pacemaker. Though then he’d depend on the damn thing even more.

She lowered the clipboard. "I’ll have to discuss this with the cardiologists. The only other option might be an ablation, which with things shifted the way they are for you would mean open heart surgery." Tony couldn’t help the way he pictured her suddenly, standing over her with his chest open. She quickly morphed into Yinsen and he wasn’t there anymore.

The alarms on the monitor started blaring before Tony started screaming. Dr. Nicholson looked taken aback by the violent reaction, but quickly recovered to hit a button that called the code blue. "It’s a flashback," Steve said loudly over the bustle, and Dr. Nicholson looked at him sharply. A shock with the defibrillator brought Tony back to a normal rhythm, and Dr. Nicholson ordered him sedated for the time being.

Steve was shaking a little, and he felt Phil push him down into a chair. The room cleared out, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Tony, his own heart still racing. They had just been fine and having a good time a few moments ago. "So that happened," Clint finally said. Dr. Nicholson was doing a more thorough examination, and she held up a finger to quiet them while she listened to different spots on Tony’s chest with the stethoscope.

Of all things to cross Steve’s mind, he was thinking about how much Tony hated other people to see his chest. It was a useless thought. Phil had never wished more that he knew anything about the medical field besides first aid. Clint ignored the pain in his side as he sat up to look across the room. Phil glared at him, but he didn’t care. He needed to see his friend still breathing after that. He had just been thinking about how he might prefer being in the hospital while Tony was stuck there too, but then things had gone to shit so quickly.

"Right," Dr. Nicholson stepped back, writing more notes. She turned to face Clint’s bed, where Phil was standing behind it and Steve was sitting in front of it. She pointed at Steve, "You’re the one he wrote in as family, right?" Steve nodded. "Good, so I can talk to you. He should be fine while he’s sleeping, though we’ll definitely keep him on the monitor. Please fill me in on what his triggers are, since flashbacks tend to be a sure-fire way to trigger arrhythmias, as are any stressors in general." She glanced over at Clint and Phil. "Should we leave the room or…"

Steve shook his head. "No, we all live together so…"

Only then did Dr. Nicholson notice how pale and shake Steve looked. "Oh honey," she moved forward, reaching for his wrist. "May I?" Steve nodded. His pulse was a little fast, but that was to be expected. She walked over to the sink and filled a small plastic cup with water. The cabinet against the wall had extra blankets, so she pulled one out. "Here, you look a little sick." Steve took them without a word, wrapping himself in the blanket and sipping the water. "Better?"

He nodded again. "Sorry, I’m not used to no warning." She pulled over the chair Steve had been using before, sitting directly in front of him. "Well," he began, taking a deep breath. He did already feel a little more grounded in reality. Emotional shock could be a bitch. "It’s tough because discussion surrounding the arc reactor and surgery can be a trigger." She nodded, already taking notes. "You just want things that could come up here, right?"

She chewed on her pen thoughtfully. It was probably a bad habit to have in the medical field, especially at a hospital or SHIELD medical, her newest job. "Might as well cover all of our bases, so just anything you can think of."

The laugh that tumbled from Steve’s lips had a slightly hysterical quality. "I’ve got a list already written up based on his SHIELD file," Phil came to the rescue. "I’ll have my assistant email it to you."

She nodded in acknowledgement. "The sedative will wear off within the hour. I’m going to go consult with, well, every expert I can." She stood, looking at all of them. "Clint, the nurses will be checking your sutures soon, but it probably won’t be too often as long as they’re still good and no signs of infection. Don’t move around more than you have to. That was a serious wound." Dr. Nicholson eyed him seriously, and Clint just knew the woman had seen him moving around during Tony’s episode or whatever it was called. He nodded, making sure he looked properly scolded. "Good. You can ask your nurses about food and intake, they won’t let you have anything you shouldn’t. Patients only get food or drink through the staff, okay?" Everyone agreed.

"How are you doing, Cap?" Clint asked when the doctor had closed the door.

Steve drained his tiny cup of water, which was really maybe two gulps. "Better. I’m gonna, um," he pointed at the door vaguely. "Go for a walk. You want anything, Phil?"

"No thank you." Before Steve closed the door behind him, he heard the man call out. "Hey Steve?" He turned, waiting. "I’m going to call the others and tell them they can visit," he made sure his tone allowed for argument from Steve.

"Good idea," Steve agreed. The room was beginning to feel stifling, and he closed the door quickly before anything could draw him back in. He wandered the halls of the helicarrier, nodding at agents who greeted him, trying to put out an unapproachable vibe. Eventually stepping outside, the harsh wind was welcoming. Steve leaned against a wall with his eyes closed, just focusing on the way the wind battered his clothing and face. He didn’t know how long he stood there, but was brought back to the present by a hand placed on his shoulder gently.

His eyes snapped open, and Natasha stood there, face carefully blank. "You okay?" she asked quietly. Steve couldn’t hear her or anything, the wind carrying away voices that weren’t shouts long before they traveled across the small gaps between people, but he could read her lips well enough. They stared at each other for a moment before Steve nodded, and allowed her to pull him inside. The others must have already gone to medical, for they were nowhere to be seen, but Natasha settled onto a wall beside Steve in a back hallway. She waited patiently for Steve to break the silence.

Steve took in a long breath, held it until his chest ached with it, then let it out in a burst. "What did Phil tell you?" he asked, finally.

"Everything the two of you know."

He let his head lean back, hitting the wall slightly, but not painfully. He closed his eyes. "Nothing’s ever simple with Tony, is it?"

Natasha sighed heavily as well. "Have either Tony or I talked about how we met?" she asked suddenly.

Steve opened his eyes again, turning his head to look at her. "You two met before the initiative, right? And Phil."

She nodded. "SHIELD sent me to investigate his potential for the initiative, and to keep an eye on him because his behaviour had been erratic." The laugh that escaped her was humourless. "Well, more erratic than his norm. It turned out he was being slowly poisoned by the reactor," Steve sucked in a sharp hiss. He had known about the palladium poisoning, but no one ever talked about it. "Tony developed a chlorophyll solution that slowed the effects, but he was collapsing after less and less time with new reactor cores burning out. He lived the life of a dying man, reckless to a whole new level." Natasha sighed, looking at the floor as she remembered watching Tony die slowly while he kept it to himself. "It took SHIELD’s intervention to get him to finally knuckle down and find a solution, and he invented a whole new element." They both smiled fondly. "He always figures out a way, but sometimes it takes the people around him to motivate him."

It was a good assessment on Tony. Natasha read people well, and Steve was glad she had never been assigned to write a file on him. He didn’t think he’d like what she’d have to write. Steve let the story wash over him, thinking about what it must’ve been like being Tony and thinking that no one should be bothered by the knowledge that he was dying. The genius had come along way. It was no small feat that the man now allowed them all in behind the public Stark mask. The battle to remind him that he didn’t need to face things alone was ongoing, as it was for a lot of them, but Tony had made tremendous progress. "Thanks," he finally said. He never felt a need to spell things out for Nat. He was just confident that she knew everything he meant behind the singular word. "He should be waking up again, soon.Let’s get some coffee on the way."

Waking up in a medical room for the second time in one day was disorienting. The fog over Tony’s mind wasn’t natural, and he slowly concluded that he had been sedated. Opening his eyes slowly, he might’ve panicked if he hadn’t been surrounded by his family, Steve’s hand in his. "The gangs all here," he smiled, sitting up and propping himself against the headboard. The heaviness in his limbs and slight slowing to his thoughts was familiar enough, not dissimilar to being buzzed. "Why was I sedated?" he looked at Steve sharply. There was a piece to his puzzle missing. Clint and he had been stable, there had been no reason to drug him.

Steve met his gaze, anxious and sad. That was never a good sign, but then again, Steve was more emotional than most. "You were having a flashback," he explained softly. "It triggered a dysrhythmia."

Right. That was a thing now. Tony not only had to worry about shrapnel shredding his heart, he had to worry about his heart losing track of it’s job and going off the rails. "Cool, cool, cool cool cool…" Tony sighed. "Well! How’s everyone!?" His smile was too bright, tone too forced, but everyone let it lie.

"Dum-E, U, and Butterfingers requested I give you this," Bruce handed him a piece of paper with crayon scribbles that made absolutely no sense. Tony felt himself grin, the card filling him with warmth. Who needed children when you had bots?

Everyone fell into easy conversation. No one delved into anything that could be remotely heavy or upsetting, and Tony felt particularly coddled as the day went on. The fog of being drugged slowly lifted, and Clint’s morphine was clearly wearing off. The archer grew less talkative and resorted to listening, wincing every time he laughed. Tony could think of nothing more forced than the interactions that took place when one was stuck inside a hospital. Being in jail was probably similarly fake, but Tony, luckily, wouldn’t know.

The nurses wouldn’t let him have coffee. It was the worst sort of hell for Tony. Clint had a much less restrictive diet, and he couldn’t help the envy that flared up inside him. Only he would be unlucky enough to have somehow damaged himself more extensively than the man with a gaping, semi-burned wound in his side, but show no outward signs. Clint fell asleep after a couple hours. The other Avengers, beside Steve and Phil, took that as their cue to leave. Phil took a shower in the room’s shower.

When they came back the next day, Bruce promised he’d bring Tony’s tablet so he could work, despite Steve’s protests. He needed to look at some possible alterations to the arc reactor that might fix his newest problem. Maybe JARVIS could help him come up with a whole new mechanical organ. He could just replace his stupid, problem-causing heart. "What are you thinking about?" Steve interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh, the usual, my faulty body and replacing it with more and more machine," he smiled wryly. Steve knew there was nothing he could say, so he just squeezed Tony’s hand. "Actually, I think I’m going to need your help on this one."

Steve straightened. "What do you mean?"

Tony tried to order his thoughts. "I’m not sure what the doctors are going to come back with, but I want you to be a part of all of it. Help me decide what to do when decision times come, please."

Tony closed his eyes while Steve kissed his forehead. "Okay," he murmured. "I’ll try my best." It was the best Tony could expect. He was asking Steve to hold his life in their hands together. While they all trusted each other in battle, this was different. Both of them were out of their depth, and scared. The wrong decision could mean the end of Iron Man, or the end of Tony Stark altogether. It was the kind of tough decision that one normally made with their spouse, but Tony was asking Steve to do this and he hadn’t even proposed. Whatever was to come, Tony was really grateful that he didn’t have to do this alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **HEY READER** if you are curious enough to want a continuation of this one, I'm considering taking this and chapter 4 and making a whole separate fic, so let me know. There isn't a nice wrap up ending to the dilemma in this, because there's just no time for it.


	20. Paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bank robbery should always be a straightforward 911 call, but no one is behaving like they should. A scarecrow runs around the panicking people, laughing as he easily takes whatever he wants. His pheromones made everyone near him paranoid, and the fear only made him more powerful. Things would have gone smoothly for him, but he hadn't planned for those meddling Avengers and their AI, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scarecrow-AKA Ebenezer Laughton- has been a repeat villain for multiple Avengers for a long time, but he didn't actually have any powers until he received them from Firm in _Ghost Rider Vol. 3 #38_.

The Avengers alarm sounded throughout the tower. "What’s the emergency?" Captain America asked as the heroes gathered in the avenjet.

A screen dropped down, showing surveillance footage of the inside of a small bank. "Local police in Mitchellville, Iowa have requested your help with a bank robbery in progress."

JARVIS allowed more of the footage to play before continuing. The view of the room was not complete, but from what the Avengers could see, something was very wrong. No one on screen was clearly the robber, but the two police officers were pointing their guns at the huddled group of five or more (the group was cut off by the edge of the screen) civilians in the corner, all of whom were in various states of panic. Some were rocking back and forth in the fetal position, one was frozen like a statue. The most worrying part was that the officers were clearly in a panic as well, jumping at every movement and firing shots here and there that narrowly missed people.

"The two first responders have stopped responding to radio hails, and as you can see here, are shooting at unarmed civilians. The 911 call mentioned something about a scarecrow with a pitchfork, but the operator had trouble keeping the caller on the line. The chief of police wants to hold off on sending anymore officers in there until he can figure out why the first have ‘gone off the rails’ as he put it."

Iron Man played the footage again inside his helmet. "Has anyone nearby reported an odd smell or sound?"

Bruce turned to look at him, seeming to catch on. "You think someone is inducing panic?"

JARVIS paused for a moment, scanning all electronic interaction in the area from the morning. "There have been no such reports, Sir. Shall I seal off the jet’s air intake and activate soundproof protocol for now?"

Tony lifted his faceplate. "Better do that, J. When we get closer you can scan for chemical agents and inaudible vibrations."

"You better sit this one out with me, Bruce," Phil spoke up from his seat piloting the jet. "At least until we know more. We don’t need a panicked Hulk."

Bruce sat down beside him. "No arguments here."

As they landed the jet, everyone waited tensely for JARVIS’ results. "I detect no vibrations or gaseous chemicals that could affect people in this manner, Sir. I do detect nine persons present inside, eight of which show the vital signs of a typical panic attack. The ninth is in the vault, uneffected."

"What’s the plan, Cap?" Hawkeye asked.

The man in question paced for a moment. "Hawkeye, only bring in sedative arrows, I’m leaving behind the shield, Thor, stay behind with Bruce and Coulson, Iron Man, can you temporarily deactivate your access to any lethal weapons?" Iron man held a thumb up to indicate a yes. "Widow, only bring your stingers. I don’t want any of us accidentally killing anyone if we’re similarly affected. Any questions?"

"Yeah, what’s the plan if we do become panicked and violent?" Natasha asked.

"JARVIS, if we start behaving illogically, can you take over the suit and apprehend the unaffected person? He has to be the cause, he should be able to reverse it."

"I can, Captain. I need Sir’s permission though."

"Makes sense to me," Tony agreed. "I don’t like this, let’s get it over with."

They entered through the front door, hands up, trying to keep the cops calm. Luckily, no one had taken a bullet yet, but the air in the bank was full of fear. The huddled six civilians were all crying and a couple were hyperventilating. "Officers, we’re here to help," Steve spoke slowly and gently, taking small steps toward them. "Please, lower your weapons to the ground."

JARVIS’ sensors picked up the movement in the back hallway first, an unnaturally quick blur of a man darting across the doorway into the lobby, before peaking out. "Cap! He’s in the back, watching."

Steve glanced over to see what Tony was talking about. Sure enough, there was someone leaning out and watching the scene unfold, and Steve couldn’t blame the caller who had called the man a scarecrow. The costume certainly looked like a classic horror movie scarecrow.

JARVIS spoke into all of their comms at once, "I detect sudden changes in your neurochemistry and electrical activity in your amygdalas." That was the only warning they got before things quickly went to hell.

Clint and Natasha suddenly turned on each other. Natasha was accusing Clint of being controlled by Loki again, and Clint was talking about Russian sleeper agents. Steve rolled over to stand in front of the civilians and guarding them from bullets with a trash can, as though that would do them any good. "This has to be a trick from Hydra! Those aren’t real officers," he yelled back at the cowering people behind them.

"JARVIS, let’s go get this bastard before someone gets hurt," Tony started, but the response wasn’t JARVIS.

"Oh Tony, you don’t control me, I control you," the condescending voice was familiar, and the visceral fear response Tony felt was overwhelming. That was Ultron. He thought they had finally gotten rid of Ultron. When will this stop haunting him and his tech? He didn’t hesitate as he activated the emergency latch to tumble out of the suit before Ultron could trap him there.

"Sir! You have no protection without the suit," JARVIS tried to speak reason, but Tony’s pupils were blown wide and he showed no indication of hearing JARVIS.

"I will destroy you for good, Ultron," Tony snarled, lunging for the suit to attack.

There was no time, JARVIS closed the suit and launched after the scarecrow figure. Scarecrow hesitated, clearly surprised that anything was approaching him at all, but he dodged the suit just in time. This guy was getting faster and stronger by the minute, and JARVIS could only conclude that he somehow fed on the fear around him.

The two officers were trained well. They handled most situations calmly, only firing their weapons as a last resort. Officers Johnny and Hal shared a look, both agreeing that they had no choice when the short brunette tumbled out of the metal suit. That light on his chest looked like an explosive device, and the man would not stand down no matter how many times they asked. The two guns fired simultaneously, and the world seemed to slow down when the assailant froze, eyes wide before crumpling to the ground. JARVIS heard the gunshots behind him, and the distraction finally allowed him to pin down the Scarecrow. "I will not hesitate to incinerate you if you don’t undo whatever you’ve done to these people in the next ten seconds." The tinny voice of Iron Man held no hint of mercy. Ebenezer Laughton felt his own fear take over, making it much harder to control the pheromones around him and keep the room in its panic.

"I’ve stopped releasing the pheromones now, I swear!" his voice cracked. "It should wear off in a few minutes, please don’t burn me." he begged. He had not been prepared to fight a sentient machine, or possibly remote controlled. His powers were only useful against people.

JARVIS scanned the man beneath him, and his own neural electrical activity changed the moment he claimed to stop releasing pheromones. That was the most confirmation he was going to get, and he needed to get to his creator ASAP. "Standby team, it’s now safe to enter, we need medical immediately."

The wound in Tony’s side was bleeding fast, but he couldn’t pay any attention to putting pressure on it when at random, the damaged reactor with a bullet wedged in it was sparking, sending painful shocks through him. He arched painfully as his body seized through another shock. His hands were shaking too violently to be of any use as he tried to get the reactor out. "Ngyaah!" He screamed, another shock wracking his frame. Tony didn’t think he’d ever want his arc reactor out, but there was a first time for everything.

Bruce examined his friend’s form quickly. Tony wasn’t really getting in any consistent air between the full body twitches that left him breathless. He held Tony as still as he could while he wrenched the damaged reactor out.

The relief was short lived. With the intermittent shocks no longer distracting him, Tony could now focus on the feeling of the shrapnel moving towards his heart and the pain spreading from his wound. "Thanks," he gasped, seeing Bruce’s face swimming in his vision. Tony could tell he was fading fast, and he wondered how much blood he’d lost while he’d been distracted by the damaged reactor. The sudden pressure on his wound, brought him sharply back to consciousness.

"Stay with me, Tony. JARVIS should be back any second with a replacement reactor." Bruce explained. Tony could only nod through a long groan.

As if on cue, the Iron Man Armour appeared above him, shoving a reactor into the luckily undamaged casing. Breathing became easier almost instantaneously. Tony felt dizzy with relief. Or maybe the world was spinning from the blood loss. He closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. Bruce pressed down harder on Tony’s side, but the wounded man didn’t wake, only whimpered.

…

When Tony woke, it was to the sound of Phil arguing on the phone. "No, tell her that we will absolutely not be releasing the officers’ names. We’re not pressing charges. Stick to the explanation that no one was responsible for their actions under the Scarecrow’s influence. Yes. Yes. Stark is stable, and I’m sure he’ll want to release his own statements after he recovers. Good, take care of it." Tony opened his eyes in time to watch the agent hang up. He noticed Tony watching. "Good to see you awake."

Steve sat forward on Tony’s other side, catching Tony’s attention. "Hey," Tony murmured tiredly. He must be on a lot of meds, because he felt loopy, giggling when Steve smiled at him. That was fine, he really didn’t want to feel anything right now. The pain could wait for later. He wasn’t really sure how he ended up here. The bank robbery had clearly gone to hell, but the fact that he was here meant something had gone awry. The bandages on his abdomen meant something must have injured him through the suit. "Wanna tell me what happened?" he asked dreamily.

Steve laughed at Tony on morphine. "You sure you want to hear now? You’re in such a good mood."

Tony thought about that, giggling in response to Steve’s laughter. He felt warm and happy, and maybe he should just bask in that while he could. "Naw, you’re right. Come snuggle me instead," he patted the bed beside him, scooting over. Steve climbed in, wary of the man’s wound that he definitely hadn’t noticed yet. Tony hummed, nuzzling into Steve’s neck. "Perfect. Goodnight." The genius promptly fell back to sleep.


	21. Undead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers play a game. It's called Undead tag. What more can one say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we all needed a break from the seriousness I fall into with these prompts. So here's a nice little fun one, where they just play a game. I thought about getting into the Marvel Zombies universes, but really, it's far too big a project for the one-shots these are supposed to be. And if the mechanics for the game are at all unclear, let me know. It's hard to tell if something is explained well when everyone you know has played it growing up.
> 
> Do I make everything somehow at least slightly angsty for Tony? Yes, yes I do.

"Then if the chosen manages to break through the chain, they get to take one person from the opposing team back with them. If they don’t make it through, they have to join the opposing team. It goes back and forth until one team has everyone," Natasha finished her martini. The team was sitting around the room in various positions and levels of drunkenness as they listened to the explanation of ‘Boaire,’ a playground game in Russia. After movie night ended, which was the new iteration of _It (2017)_ for October spookiness, they had started talking about childhood memories. The group of kids hanging out together and exploring in the movie had generated the perfect casual nostalgia they rarely got, where the happy memories lie without the painful ones.

Slowly, it had devolved into explanations of the games each of them played as kids, since they all came from such different backgrounds. "That sounds just like Red Rover!" Clint exclaimed a bit too animatedly, causing him to bump Phil’s drink out of his hand. Phil leveled an irritated look at the archer, who scrambled away with a blush to replace the drink.

"Grab me one!" Tony shouted after him.

"Oh! We had Red Rover when I was a kid, too," Steve commented happily. Tony was nestled into his lap sideways, one arm around Steve’s neck and shoulder to hold him upright. Movie night was easily Steve’s favourite night of the week.

Tony booped him on the nose, laughing at the blank look it got him. "So what you’re saying is it’s an ancient game."

"Ha, ha." Steve plucked Tony’s empty glass from his free hand so the man could take the new one Clint was trying to hand him. He got a kiss on the cheek for his efforts.

"I suppose it was like Red Rover," Natasha decided. "I never really connected the two, but I’ve seen kids play it. Maybe growing up in Russia had its similarities to here."

"Though I imagine much colder," Bruce said wryly. He was watching the red wine in his glass swirl round and round with the fascination that only an inebriated person can achieve. "My neighborhood used to play undead tag."

"Undead as in the Draugr of Helheim?" Thor asked. At the blank look he received from everyone, "You know not of the army of skeletal warriors who serve King Baldor, previously served Hel, that reside in the dark dimension of Nifelheim?"

"Nipple-what?" Clint burst into a fit of giggles at his own joke, which no one else thought was that funny. Phil rolled his eyes.

Bruce took another sip. "Our use of undead was like zombies, like in the movie from last week, Thor."

"I gotta say, I’ve never heard of undead tag," Tony declared. "Though that could be because I didn’t really play on the playground," he admitted.

"How do I explain it…" Bruce thought aloud. "It’s like regular tag, like someone is it. But whoever is pretends like their undead, so they can’t run, but everyone else can. Plus when they tag someone, that person joins them as undead instead of replacing them? By the end there’s only one ‘human’ left, and that kid wins."

"That one is a good one for Halloween," Phil said. "We always just played that game where you hid in the bushes while cars passed so the headlights wouldn’t get you. It never really had a name for us."

"I think that one’s pretty universal," Bruce replied, "well, on Earth." He threw Thor a shrug.

"Probably," Steve agreed.

The room was full of nods in generic agreement, except for Tony, who was scanning the room to see everyone’s nodding. "I see, so I assume it was an honor system thing if the headlights caught you? It’s not like someone could pay attention to everyone else while they were hiding." He wasn’t really expecting a response, already turning his thoughts to other topics while he drained another glass. The silence that settled into the room made him look up, confused. Everyone was staring at him. "What? Did I spill?" He looked down for an embarrassing stain, but found nothing.

"You never played the hide from the headlights game?" Clint asked.

"Um, no. I’m sure lots of people haven’t guys, it’s not that weird." Everyone was still watching him like he had grown a second head. He squirmed uncomfortably in Steve’s lap.

"What did you play as a kid, Tony?" Steve asked, and he made it sound like a trap. Like whatever Tony said next might lead into unknown consequences. "You haven’t mentioned anything. Even Thor told us about Asgardian games."

Tony suddenly felt very tired, and didn’t want to have this conversation. It was a trap, this was going to become one of _those_ conversations where everyone made sure he knew he was a freak. Like he didn’t already know that. " Oh, you know, the usual," he lied, sauntering towards the bar so he didn’t have to look at any of them. The lack of response behind him told him no one bought it. Tony poured another glass of bourbon, and a shot. He threw down the shot, set it down, and leaned heavily on the counter, dropping his chin to his chest. Just leave it alone, please, someone change the topic, he thought desperately.

No such luck. "Tony," and Steve had that serious tone. Tony didn’t know why this had suddenly become a thing. Like he knew it would! They were just talking about silly kid games, why was no topic safe?

"Just leave it, Steve," he bit out, not moving from his spot staring at the bar. More silence. Goddamnit.

Tony threw back the glass he had just poured. "Well, this was fun, but I’ve got to get back to the lab." He moved as quickly as he could without running through the group, trying to escape. Steve caught his wrist, and he spun around. "What?" It came out too harsh. Tony felt like he was going to burst, this was stupid, everything was stupid. So he never played any games as a kid, so what? The stares he was getting reminded him too much of the stares of the other kids at school. The way people whispered to each other, or spoke loudly deliberately, about what a freak he was.

"We’re not judging you," Bruce said quietly, always quick to pick up on what was bothering Tony.

"It kind of feels like you are."

"We were just surprised," Steve replied apologetically. Tony scanned the faces, but everyone had _that_ look, and it wasn’t helping. The one that said ‘oh, poor Tony, the freak.’ This was his family of freaks, he wasn’t supposed to feel like this here. He thought this group was finally a place he could feel like he always belonged.

" Why?" he spat. Tony wasn’t trying to sound so angry, but it helped mask the urge to cry instead. He felt like a little kid again. "Is it really so shocking that Tony the freak didn’t have any friends to play games with?" He tried to tug his arm out of Steve’s grasp, but the supersoldier pulled him into a hug instead.

"Hey, hey," Steve murmured. Tony was crying into his chest now. "None of us think you’re a freak. Come here." Tony didn’t fight it when Steve scooped him up and brought him back to the couch. He refused to move his face away from Steve’s chest, embarrassed.

"You know it’s okay to cry in front of us, right?" Natasha spoke up. "Even if everyone’s having a good time, and something upsets you, we’d rather hear about it as your friends." There were soft agreements around her. "Tony, no one will force you to talk about something, but please don’t hide from us."

The small circles Steve was tracing between his shoulder blades helped. He waited until his shuddering breaths that came with silent crying returned to a more level cycle. "Right, yeah." He cleared his throat and turned around, looking at the room. "Sorry, I just," his eyes stung. He rubbed at them. It was still strange to be allowed to cry in front of people. "Old habits," he flashed a fake smile. "Stark men don’t cry, and what-not." Everyone waited patiently, and it was far nicer than Tony deserved.

"Everyone staring at me just kind of," he waved his hands around, trying to find the right words. "It reminded me of school. When I started, I was already at a disadvantage because I had no social skills, had never talked to anyone besides adults. Plus, kids really don’t like it when you use a bunch of words they don’t understand. It probably was a hurdle we could’ve figured out, but having no experience in controlling my temper, I had absolutely no patience for trying to find a way to talk to all the what I saw as idiots around me. After that, well, my reputation preceded me." He shrugged. Explaining out loud did make him feel better. It was surprising. Right, talking was better than drinking and avoidance. JARVIS told him that all the time, not that Tony ever listened.

"Let’s make up for lost time," Steve said brightly. Tony just stared at him confused. "We could play a game tomorrow, you should experience a playground game." Tony waited for the punchline, but Steve just continued to smile at him. The man was serious.

"I love this idea!" Clint called out from where his head was now lying in Phil’s lap.

"Aye, I too would like to experience a Midgardian game."

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Tony felt off-balance. "I’m in my forties, I’m not going to run around playing tag or something."

Steve tilted his head patiently. "Why not? We could play the undead one. It takes strategy since the zombies have to walk, it could be good training."

"Plus it fits since it’s October," even Phil Coulson, Agent-no-fun, joined in. Tony should just accept at this point that his life was not in his control at all anymore.

…

"Alright Avengers, welcome to undead tag day!" Steve began. They were all standing in the gym wearing vests Steve had brought. Tony rolled his eyes. "Here are the official rules, anyone who breaks them will have to clean the tower without bots or servants for a week." Tony scoffed. Steve forgot to mention volunteers. Plenty of people will volunteer to do things for Tony Stark just for the chance to see him and the Avengers in real life. "JARVIS has agreed to be the referee, and Bruce is going to be the starting zombie. If Bruce touches you, JARVIS will activate your vest," Bruce’s vest lit up as an example. "Lit vest players can no longer run, and the vents are completely off limits, Clint." Clint groaned. "Undead aren’t typically good climbers."

"How do you know?" Clint demanded crossing his arms.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, Steve how would you know? Met any undead recently?"

"No, that’s fair, I haven’t. But we’re going by most movie rules for zombies. Anyway," Steve glared at Tony and Clint, "All floors and rooms are fair game with the exception of the labs. When there is a winner, their vest will light up green, and everyone else’s will glow red. If someone needs the game to stop for an emergency, JARVIS will let everyone know. Questions?"

Tony raised his hand. "Yeah, why are we playing a children’s game when I have work to do?"

"Team-building."

"That’s your excuse for everything."

Shit-eating grin was not a good look on Steve. "Yup. Bruce starts in here, and the rest of us get a 30 sec head start as counted down by JARVIS. Ready, set, go!"

The others took off at an alarming rate, out of the room in seconds, while Tony was still staring after them. He turned, looking at Bruce, who shrugged. "Better get going if you don’t want to be a zombie." That was a sentence Tony never thought he’d hear.

Exiting the gym, he decided he should probably come up with a strategy. Tony had wasted the first precious fifteen seconds of their head start, and despite the fact that this whole thing was stupid, he did hate losing. And when a game had only one winner, there was a high chance of losing. Knowing Bruce, and his walking speed, he’d probably be on this floor for a while. Tony’s best bet was to get to the farthest floor possible.

The gym was on floor 52, and the most logical guess for where he would go would be up, since that’s where the penthouse suites and labs were, so Tony decided to head down. "JARVIS, take me to floor 26." The elevator moved quickly, and Tony stepped off just as JARVIS told the team that the zombie was officially on the move. It’s probably best not to use the elevator again after this, because if he did happen to get caught in the elevator with Bruce on the other side when the door opened, it would be very difficult to escape. That was a good strategy for later, though, if he did end up on the zombie’s side.

Turns out the 26th floor is one of the Stark industries conference room floors. There were no meetings scheduled today, so he luckily would not have to worry about explaining his odd attire and appearance to any employees or stock-holders. Tony used to remember where everything in the tower was, but 62 floors took up a lot of space in his mind. Since the Avengers only really used the top 10 and he knew the bottom 3, there was a lot in between that he just didn’t bother with. He might remember Pepper mentioning that there were some cafeteria floors and some display floors for his cars, but who knows. Originally the idea had been to rent out space to businesses, but, once the whole Tony is Iron Man secret was out, no sane business owner really wanted to conduct business in a tall supervillain target.

Now that he was here, what was he supposed to do? It would probably take ages for Bruce to find him here, he had chosen the floor at random. Tony jumped into a chair in one of the rooms, rolling it over towards the windows so he could look at the view. Maybe he should come up with some more stuff to fill these floors so he had an excuse to visit them. The view was very different here than up in the penthouse. He obviously couldn’t see as much of New York, but he could make out the details of the street a little better. Plus the way the sunlight shone through between the gaps between buildings was kind of nice. Maybe Steve would like an art studio. That’d be a good use. Tony rolled back over to the long meeting table, sighing and pulling out his phone. This game in the tower was a bad idea, far too boring. Now was as good a time as any to check his email, he supposed. He hadn’t been kidding that he had work to do.

Bruce’s only mistake was that he exhaled too loudly. Tony jumped out of his chair in the knick of time, darting away towards the other end of the table. "How did you find me so fast!?"

It was a good thing Bruce wasn’t a supervillain, because the look of sheer deviousness that crossed his face was creepy. Hulk and Bruce would be bad enemies to have. "JARVIS and I worked out that since zombies can find people through really good sense smell for flesh, I should be able to get a signal from him whenever I was on a floor with one of you. As long as you were close enough to the elevator or stairs that undead from the most common fictions would be able to smell you, of course." Bruce never stopped walking towards him as he spoke, but Tony kept their distance, circling the table.

"I’ve gotta admit, that was smart thinking Brucie-boy." They had circled the table enough that now Bruce was in front of one of the two doors, and Tony was in front of the other but with the table in between. "Too bad you only get to walk though."

Tony slid across the table, rolling as he hit the ground and popping up in the hallway. There were a few options for him, and he might’ve made the mistake of running straight into Thor, but the demigod gave himself away by laughing loudly in his enthusiasm for the game. Tony saw the lit up red vest in time to dart right, heading for one of the two staircases on the floor. That answered his question as to whether or not he was the first Bruce found. Tony began running up the steps, taking them three at a time. He made it up to 32, but decided it was time to venture onto the floor, a little out of breath but still wanting enough energy to dodge and dive if need be. Tony had to admit, although begrudgingly, that the workout of both mind and body was nice without the pressure of serious injury or death.

Genius or no, it wasn’t a surprise that Steve was one of the last two standing. Natasha wasn’t really a surprise. The two of them were probably the best tacticians, and they were both genetically enhanced. Tony had nearly gotten Steve once, but Steve managed to slide away from him, and Tony hoped the resulting rug burn was worth it, because the infinitesimal space between his fingertips and Steve’s skin made him feel like he might somehow go Hulk. In that moment of shock after Steve got away, laughing as he ran, Tony finally understood what children saw in these games. They were so exciting! Maybe more adults should keep playing childhood games. It would certainly be nice for other adults like him, who never got to have a childhood.

It got the genius thinking. A lot of the games children played, at least from what he had learned second hand, were useful for team building and built physical skills for the real world. Even mentally, the games, like hide and seek, six flags, lazer tag, they seemed to build a good basis for tactical thinking. Tony had been thinking about adding another extension to the Maria Stark Foundation, but maybe under his own name finally, where he helped addicts and ex-convict learn the skills and build new networks to fit back into society. It seemed like the least he could do given the very broken rehabilitation system of the United States since he wasn’t willing to run for office. No matter what anyone said, it absolutely wasn’t a way of admitting his own addiction problems. Yeah. If he told himself that enough, he might even start believing it. Anyways, maybe his program could include games like this. He made sure JARVIS took note of the passing idea to remind him later.

The end was reached on the third floor, or the ground floor, given the two underground levels. Clint and Bruce flanked Steve on each side, Thor blocked any path outside of the room. They allowed Tony to be the one to finally catch him. "I caught Captain America!" Tony yelled at the top of his lungs. It echoed through the lobby over JARVIS voice announcing Natasha’s victory.

Steve was on the ground, Tony on top of him, and he couldn’t stop laughing. "Yes, you did catch me, Iron Man," he managed between bouts of laughter. "Come here," he pulled the man down into a sloppy kiss. When Tony managed to separate them, Steve was proud of the dazed look on his face. "So how was the children’s game?" he asked quietly.

Tony’s face showed a range of emotions in quick succession. "It had its value," he admitted finally. "But I really should get back to work."

"Not before I feed you," Steve stipulated, letting the brunette help him up.

"Did you hear that JARVIS? Let everyone know Steve is feeding us," Tony grinned, intertwining his fingers with Steve. Being an Avenger was a wild ride, and often dangerous, but sometimes, it was just fun.


	22. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween is a very busy time of year for the Sorcerer Supreme. The veils between dimensions thin, and not so nice beings try to take advantage; Basically, Halloween is the worst overtime day of the year for Stephen Strange. This year, in particular, someone has decided to team up with Nightmare, and he is far more powerful than he should be, and he's after the children. If Strange wasn't so tired from all the other multiverse protecting, it'd be no biggie, but he is, so he asks the Avengers for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a really big fan of Strange and Tony around each other, half in awe of each other half biting each other's heads off lmao. This ended up sort of being a mix between one of the episodes of Avenger's Assemble and of one of the episodes of CW's Constantine show as far as premise. Please give any feedback you might have, I've never tried to explain a setting like the Nightmare realm before, and I'm not sure if I was clear.

Tony let his eyes slide shut. He should probably move to the bedroom, but where he had collapsed on the couch seemed good enough for now, even if his back would hate him later. Maybe Steve would find him and carry him to bed. He smiled sleepily at the thought. Exhaustion was where he had been about twelve hours ago. This here? This was Tony surprised he could still move or think. The Halloween party fundraiser for the children’s hospital had gone well enough, at least, the kids seemed happy. Pepper wasn’t, but he’d deal with that tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow. Sleep sounded nice.

"Sir, Doctor Strange is about to exit the elevator," JARVIS spoke loudly. Tony startled away from the precipice of sleep, and fell gracelessly into a heap on the floor. He groaned.

"Why JARVIS? Why?" If it sounded like Tony was desperately questioning God instead of asking JARVIS why Strange was there, well that would be because he wasn’t even sure which he was doing.

The elevator door opened, and Tony looked up in time to see Stephen Strange stumble out. That alone brought Tony back to alertness. Dr. Strange didn’t stumble. He floated, or walked so gracefully and lightly that it was almost floating, and those were his only two methods of transportation Tony had ever witnessed. Today? The man stumbled, righted himself, saw Tony on the floor, and lurched forward.

"Tony, you’ve got to help me," he sounded desperate. Tony stood and brushed himself off, motioning for the sorcerer to join him on the couch. Perhaps this was a dream. It was definitely strange enough. Ha. Strange.

"Are you okay?" Tony asked. In the better lighting of not the floor, Strange looked as tired as Tony felt. He needed a shave, and his hair was even messy. Always perfectly coiffed hair and immaculate appearance, Strange seemed like a different person like this.

Strange sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Sure. Look, Halloween is a rough time for me," he started. "Whatever your beliefs about the supernatural, Halloween is the time of year the veils between dimensions are thinnest, and every magical threat to our existence always tries to take advantage of the weakened state. Every year, without fail. I’m not complaining, this is my sworn duty as the Sorcerer Supreme, but this year something’s different, and I need help."

"I’d love to help a friend out, but how am I supposed to do anything? You’re the one always telling me my science won’t work on the supernatural, not that I believe you, but still."

"It doesn’t matter at this point, I need the Avengers, all the help I can get. On top of the usual threats, which are under control already, someone is helping Nightmare and he has a new power. Children everywhere are falling into comas and not waking up. The doctors can’t help them because it isn’t medical, the children’s consciousnesses are being held in the Nightmare realm. He has never had the ability to hold hostages before, and I don’t know how he got it, but if we don’t force him to release them, their bodies will die and they’ll be trapped there forever."

Tony held up a hand to stop him. “Whoa, whoa, hold on a minute. JARVIS, turn on the news, if this was true, it would surely be on the news. The TV turned on to show a breaking news story about a mysterious plague making children fall into comas. "Okay, turn it off." Tony turned back to find Strange raising an eyebrow at him with a slight smirk. If the man wasn’t so irksome when he was smug, Tony would be relieved to see a little of his usual personality shine through this exhaustion and panic he seemed to be in tonight.

"You finished wasting time checking my story?" Strange asked, but it lacked heat.

Tony leaned back, fighting a yawn. "Forgive me for not believing your crazy story without some outside corroboration," Tony drawled.

"Alright, I suppose this is crazy for you. Now, I’ve used up most of my magic reserves tonight already to take care of all the other threats. Nightmare was clever to wait until I was weakened. The point is that I will have to use it sparingly for the rest of the night if I want to have enough to hold a portal open to return us to our own realm after we defeat Nightmare. Even if I tap into my life force, there’s only so much." Strange actually looked apologetic.

And Steve thought Tony was the overly self-sacrificing one. "You life force!? Yeah, no, let’s not do that. JARVIS, tell the others we’re assembling to help Dr. Strange. How can we help?"

It turned out that Dr. Strange meant everyone except Tony. "What!? I’m not staying behind you madman, I thought you wanted all the help you can get!"

Dr. Strange shook his head, making a pained expression. "Stark, I don’t mean to offend, but-"

"Which will always follow with something offensive."

"But! Your repulsor blasts and technology won’t work on magical beings. The others can use bullets, arrows, fists, shield, you know, physical objects. I just don’t believe you will be of much use, and with so of my magic already used up I can’t be protecting you-"

"Okay, no. Stop right there." Tony looked furious. "Firstly, I can attack physically with the suit, you conceited, self-righteous-"

"Tony…" Steve warned. It almost always got like this if Dr. Strange or Reed Richards was involved.

"Secondly! I don’t buy it, I don’t buy that my tech can’t do damage. I’ve scanned you while you attack, Sorcerer Supreme," the title was said with so much venom. "Your magical blasts are still just energy from a different source, all I have to do is match the energy wavelength to yours." Strange looked surprised at that. "Thirdly, there are children in danger, I’m coming, and I don’t need your protection." Tony crossed his arms, waiting for Strange to give in.

Dr. Strange rarely admitted being wrong, but he wasn’t such a narcissist he couldn’t see when he was fairly disputed. "Alright, Stark, you might actually be onto something with the energy wavelength thing." Tony smiled, smug already. "I won’t turn down useful help, but I warn you, I don’t know how energy in the atmosphere of Nightmare realm may affect the armor. It is a risk."

"Thank you for the warning, I’m willing to take the risk. It is good to know though." Tony held out his hand, and Strange took it. The truce handshake was something Steve had forced them to do a while back, but it stuck when they got into these spats. While the two often acted like they disliked each other, they did have a mutual respect for the other’s expertise. Plus Tony liked the man when they weren’t talking magic. They got along fine, then.

"Alright, everyone, shall we?" Strange looked around the room, making sure everyone was ready. "Perfect." Strange made a circular motion in the air with one hand, the other stretched out in front of the circling hand, aiming the magic similarly to the armor’s repulsors. A glowing blue circle formed in front of him, with black swirling within it. It grew until it was about the size of the elevator door. "In we go."

The portal closed directly behind Strange, and Tony could see the sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead before he hastily wiped it away. The sorcerer really was weakened, Tony had never seen him like this. He shared a look with Steve through the suit. The Captain noticed as well. Dr. Strange might be the one needing protected by the end of the night.

"Sir, I have finished scanning the energy Dr. Strange used to open the portal. It seems to match the energy we’ve scanned in attack spells in previous missions." JARVIS spoke only to Tony.

Perfect. "Can you recalibrate my repulsors to match it?"

"I can, but it may use more power than usual, and the arc reactor will drain quicker." Tony looked at the calculations in front of him. Ideally, the reactor should be able to recharge fast enough to make up for the extra power usage, but Strange did say things may not work normally here.

He sighed. "Do what you have to do, J. There’s too much at stake."

They walked along a stone path. It was agreed that flying would make finding their way to Castle Nightmare harder, since the sky was chaotic, but the paths each led there if you followed them on foot. Tony scanned the environment as they walked. The sky, if one could call it that, was a yellowish-orange with random blobs of black rolling through it. Paths of rock criss-crossed through it, seemingly at random, but were all suspended in the air, and Tony could find no actual ground far below. The colours just went on forever in every direction. Flying gargoyle like creatures flew by in small groups, but ignored them. Boulders with glowing purple stones on the outside would zoom by like meteorites, narrowly missing collision with the path, or Steve once.

He ducked just in time at Clint’s warning, and the boulder flew over his head. There had been no air movement or noise to warn him, so his reflexes were useless. "That was close, thanks, Hawkeye."

"Is there no way to know those are coming?" Natasha asked Strange. They were in the lead, and only turned around at the sound of Clint’s warning.

"I could have my usual aura projection around me to detect them, but I can’t spare the power today. We just have to watch out for each other." Strange looked apologetic, and Steve felt kind of bad for him. The man very rarely needed help; had earned his title as Sorcerer Supreme without question, so this could be very uncomfortably humbling.

"JARVIS can make sure to be scanning in every direction," Tony said from the back of the group. It was a minimal use of power, and the grateful sigh of relief that came from the party was worth it. Strange did throw a sharp look across the group, piercing gaze narrowing as he met Tony’s eyes. Tony didn’t need telepathy to see the warning there; he nodded as an acknowledgement. That seemed to satisfy the sorcerer for now.

By the time the castle was in view, Tony was a little over 50% power remaining. The reactor did not seem to be charging; just his luck. "The castle will be full of Nightmare’s minions. Though they’ve ignored us so far, as soon as Nightmare is aware of our presence they’ll swarm. I hate to ask this, but I’ll need you guys to take the heat from them while I take on Nightmare and give the children an escape." Dr. Strange told them.

"Will you be able to take on this Nightmare on your own?" Thor asked worriedly.

The smile on the Sorcerer’s face was unconvincing. "I should be fine. If I need help, I’ll call for it. I just don’t know who has been helping him, trapping the children here is beyond his power given to him as a servant of Shuma-Gorath. The unknown factor is what worries me."

"We’ll just have to adapt as we go," Steve said confidently. Tony put his faceplate back down. Steve knew him too well at this point for Tony to hide his anxiety from his expressions. If it took about half his power to get here, the battle better be quick.

The castle reminded Steve of Dracula’s, all cold and dimly lit. Not that there were any sources of light around, but physics didn’t seem to apply here anyway. Natasha and Steve easily took out the patrol gargoyles they happened upon in the hallway, so they hoped Nightmare still didn’t know they were here. "I think I can sense the children just around this corner…" Strange whispered.

They all startled at the laughter suddenly echoing all around them. It was a woman’s laughter, and Tony did not like the way Strange suddenly looked stricken. "I see you had to call on reinforcements," the woman’s voice seemed to come from all directions.

Strange stood up straighter, his cloak billowing behind him. "Morgana La Fey!" his voice was amplified and deeper, to match the strength of Morgana’s. "Show yourself!"

That set Morgana laughing again. "Oh Stephen Strange, you are so new to your station. I will not be stepping into this battle, though I gave my friend Nightmare some gifts. You’ll learn soon enough that I prefer not to get my hands dirty."

"Then you are a coward!" Thor boomed, electricity sparking around him. Maybe this realm made his godly powers more obvious. That would be a bonus.

"Thor Odinson! I’ve heard of you from Amora. We can chat another time. Goodbye!" Her voice and the stifling aura it brought with it dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.

The snarls of the gargoyles could be heard around the corner. As Strange and the Avengers rounded on them, Steve threw his shield down the narrow hallway to clear a fast path for Strange. While the sorcerer ran ahead, the Avengers started their fight with the creatures as they got back on their feet. Tony made sure to stick to physical attacks as much as he could, but there were a lot of them. By the time the team had fought their way into the throne room, the suit was at 36%. Tony scanned the room, seeing Strange and who he assumed must be Nightmare in the throws of battle above the throne, and a large cage of terrified children in the far corner to the right of the throne. He took down another creature to his right, and they were thinning out. Tony was more focused on watching Strange.

The sorcerer looked like he might be losing. It was hard to tell, because some of the attacks seemed to be mental or invisible, and some of them were energy beams. What he could tell was that Strange’s reactions were getting slower, and his screams weaker. "Cap, do you guys got this if I back up the doc?"

Tony heard the grunt Steve made as he caught the shield on the other end of the comm. "He hasn’t called for help, Iron Man. Doctor Strange, do you need back up?" They waited tensely, taking down the creatures around them half-heartedly. With enough force, they were all pretty easy fights, but it would have been a lot for one person to handle. Strange had definitely made the right call to bring a team. Tony watched Strange gasp and start levitating upward, hands scrabbling at his neck like he was trying to breathe.

"Cap, he can’t answer, he’s losing. I’m going in."

"Be careful," Natasha warned.

Tony flew over the remaining distance, dodging the few minions who took to the air or jumped at him. 30%. "Hey! Loser, leave my friend alone!" Tony caught the demon off guard with the repulsor blast that hit his face. 19%. It didn’t seem to do too much damage, but it did break his concentration enough for Strange to escape the spell, gasping for air. Nightmare tumbled in the air a moment before righting himself, now glaring at Tony. Tony had no idea how the armor would hold up to magic. Luckily he didn’t have to find out, because Strange shouted a very foreign sounding word, and a projected rope tied the demon up tight, and he struggled against the bounds to no avail.

"Release the children, and I will spare you a lot of pain, Nightmare." Strange warned. Nightmare struggled some more, only answering Strange with a glare. "Now!" Whatever the sorcerer did, it worked, because Nightmare screamed out in pain, and the lock on the cage housing the children disappeared. "Now stay your minions."

Said minions backed off, whining like scolded dogs as they left the room altogether, the ones still standing. Strange made a flinging motion, and Nightmare landed in the throne, hard, but he didn’t seem able to stand back up. Strange must have saved up just enough power to defeat the demon, not counting on Morgana making him more powerful, because the sorcerer suddenly slumped, falling through the air. Tony dove, catching him just in time before he hit the ground. "Strange! Wake up, we still have to get out of here," Tony cried desperately. 17%.

Strange groaned, but opened his eyes and stood, holding onto the armor’s shoulder for support. He didn’t speak, clearly struggling to stay conscious, but he did open a portal in front of them. "When the children go through, they’ll be returned to their bodies?" Clint asked, herding them into the portal. Strange nodded, and he closed his eyes. The portal began shrinking.

Tony shook him, "Just a little longer, Strange." Strange opened his eyes again, and they were glowing the blue of the portal. He poured more energy into it, and it stopped shrinking, but it did not grow back to a size people could fit through. The children in front of it turned to look at Clint, frightened. "Fuck, J, we’re going to put the uni-beam into it, charge the portal up. Don’t argue either."

"Yes, Sir." JARVIS replied regretfully.

The unibeam wasn’t as bright or powerful as usual, but it did the trick. Tony kept at it until all of the children were through. "Hurry," he ground out at the others. Hulk had to fight himself for a moment, turning back into Bruce to fit through the slowly shrinking portal. With him through, all that was left was him and Strange. They were both balancing against each other at this point. "C’mon, Stephen, we’re almost home." 3%. They staggered forward together, but every step took so much effort. 0%. The suit shut down and Tony was trapped.

With the suit off, he couldn’t see what happened, but he heard one last yell from Strange, and his arm get tugged forward until he was laying face first on the ground, still trapped in the frozen suit. He hoped it was the ground of the tower, and not the castle.

Steve watched as Strange pulled an unmoving Iron Man through the flickering portal with him, just as it disappeared from the room. The sorcerer let out a roar with the effort, and as soon as they were through, collapsed into a heap on the ground. Iron Man was face down, still not moving. "Tony! Strange!" Bruce knelt at Strange’s side, checking for a pulse, and Steve rolled the armor over, finding the latch for the face plate with muscle memory.

The all too familiar pain of the shrapnel in his chest was eating at him, but Tony held in the scream. "Steve," his voice was shaky.

"Hold on, you’re fine, we’re home," Steve was saying gently, quickly stripping him of the armor. JARVIS must have warned them, because someone was already returning with a replacement reactor. When Steve pulled out the old one, it was smoking, and Tony could smell the acrid smell of damaged wiring coming from him.

Steve put the other reactor in before Tony could warn him, and the reactor didn’t turn on. "Uuhnng-God! Fuck!" Tony arched off the ground, trying to steady his breathing. "JARVIS. Lab." He rasped. He could feel the palpitations starting, and he clutched at his chest unconsciously. Tony felt like he was spinning, but Steve must’ve been carrying him, because he was suddenly looking up at the robotic arm that could replace the wiring. JARVIS monitors had activated, because they were a steady stream of loud beeping in his ear.

The black was beginning to take over all of Tony’s vision, and his body felt like it was entirely pins and needles. Was he even breathing any more? Probably not, because his diaphragm just did that involuntary jerk that comes from a body desperately trying to oxygen.Tony blinked hard, and he could still see a little, but when the the arc reactor was slotted back into place, everything was white and electric and coconut.

It took several moments of gasping for his breathing to resemble normal again, and his sight to slowly make sense again. The details in front of him were blurry, but coming back like a camera being brought into focus. Steve was right there in his face. “Oh god,” he managed before pushing the man away and heaving. Stomach emptied, he laid back and promptly passed out.

When Strange awoke, he was not in the Sanctum Sanctorum. He sat up, looking around, confused. Everything was sleek and glass or metallic. This was the Avenger’s tower. It all came flooding back to him. His body ached in ways it hadn’t in a very long time. Lying back, he allowed himself a moment to order his thoughts. "JARVIS, is everyone alright? Tony?"

"Sir is still sleeping the experience off in his room, and no others were injured. How are you feeling?"

"I’m fine. What happened to Tony?" He remembered the suit shutting down, them barely making it through.

"He knowingly used up all the reactor’s power to help you keep the portal open," Steve explained from the doorway. He had a tray in his hands. "I made tea?" he offered.

It smelled heavenly. "Thank you, yes." Strange took a cup, breathing in the smell of masala chai blend. "I told him his tech wouldn’t work right," he sighed.

Steve smiled tiredly. "The suit was losing power the whole time we were there, he knew. It was a calculated risk. You weren’t strong enough to keep the portal open alone." Steve bit into a biscuit, swallowing it with some tea.

Strange was loathe to admit it, but Tony’s science had saved the day. "I believe I hate Halloween," he decided, after a long pause.

Steve began laughing, like there was a joke Strange had missed. At the man’s obvious confusion, Steve only laughed harder. "Sorry, it’s just," he broke off into a fit of giggles. Captain America could giggle. Strange would never have guessed it. "Tony says that every year. You two can finally bond on a shared hatred." The Avengers were stranger than any of the otherworldly adventures he went on, Stephen Strange decided.


	23. Urban Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...What was the point of having his amazing car collection if he didn’t get to drive them? A night alone on empty highways was peaceful.
> 
> The first several hours were perfect. The dashed lines passing him by and the focus he could put into just the feeling of driving was therapeutic. The slight buzzing of the engine underneath his fingertips reminded him of his teens, the good parts, when he could get away with long trips to nowhere to escape everything. There was no time for brooding or panic attacks when autopilot wasn’t an option, like in the suit, and driving helped keep Tony from drinking. He sighed, life was going pretty alright.
> 
> That was, of course, until the black-eyed child showed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favourite urban legends is the black-eyed children. Usually one or a couple of them show up at your house asking to come in and use a phone, or asking for a ride at your car. They never actually do anything except cause fear until the person runs away. It's just so strange.
> 
> So I thought of Gazing Nightshade, who admittedly is a fairly new character from X-Men Blue I think, and her name was not even in ao3s character list yet, but she's got such a cool design. Also the required black eyes. He power is basically making you feel lots of angst lol.
> 
> Warnings for self-hatred and suicidal ideation, mentions of 616 events where characters die and get seriously injured, but it's comics so none of it is permanent. Everyone is alive at the end I swear.

"Yeah, Pep, I get it, I’ll be there." Tony rolled his eyes and took a sip of his water bottle. The night was a bit chilly, so he had the convertible Audi R8’s roof up to avoid the chill. The air flowed openly through the vents though. If Tony liked one thing about October, it was that the smells of autumn hung in the air before being swept away in November’s cold.

"I’m serious Tony," her voice sounded warped by the cell phone’s speaker. "It’s first thing in the morning, and you chose to drive. You’re never going to make it in time."

"Oh ye of so little faith. I drive plenty fast enough, and sleep is for the weak."

"Tony! No driving without sleep, I’m going to call happy to meet you at an airport this is-"

"Ksshhht, Pepper, I, shhhhkkk, we’re breaking up." Tony tapped the end call button with absolutely no guilt. He was in a bout of insomnia anyway, so he wouldn’t be sleeping, and he never got to go on long drives anymore. What was the point of having his amazing car collection if he didn’t get to drive them? A night alone on empty highways was peaceful.

The first several hours were perfect. The dashed lines passing him by and the focus he could put into just the feeling of driving was therapeutic. The slight buzzing of the engine underneath his fingertips reminded him of his teens, the good parts, when he could get away with long trips to nowhere to escape everything. There was no time for brooding or panic attacks when autopilot wasn’t an option, like in the suit, and driving helped keep Tony from drinking. He sighed, life was going pretty alright.

Of course the thought had floated through his mind before he could stop it. Bad thing always happened when he thought that. As if on cue, his periphery caught a figure standing off the side of the road, barely noticeable outside of the streetlight’s beam. It was probably a child given the stature, and they looked cold and alone. Tony lamented the loss of his solitude as he pulled up beside them.

"Hey! Need a ride?" He called out the rolled down passenger side window.

The figure looked up, her hoodie falling back to reveal a teenage girl, probably of some mix of asian descent, with her hair in high pigtails. She made no move towards the car, but watched him from afar. Her head tilted slightly. Tony guessed, in fairness, it probably wasn’t in a teenage girl’s best interest to get into strange men’s cars without a little hesitation. He wondered if she had a cell phone, and why she hadn’t called for help, though they were on a country road in the middle of nowhere. Non-Stark phones probably didn’t have signal out here.

Tony put the car in park, and made sure to make his moments slow as he exited the vehicle. The last thing he wanted was to scare the poor girl. He approached with his hands raised, so she knew he didn’t have a weapon. Maybe in the light, she’d recognize him from TV. "I mean no harm, I’m Tony Stark. I just thought you look a little lost out here alone." She nodded in agreement, but still said nothing, unwilling to meet Tony’s gaze as he got closer. "I won’t force you, but would you like a ride to the nearest town?" The girl hesitated, then raised her face to meet his gaze.

Something was very wrong. The girl had no sclera or iris, just purely black orbs for eyes. It was disconcerting on its own, but Tony had met stranger kids who often ended up with Xavier and the X-Men. No, the eyes alone were not the issue. She stared at him blankly, and his fear response was illogical. _Shut up,_ he told his anxiety, now was hardly a good time for a panic attack. There was a civilian in need right in front of him. " I’m sorry," she whispered.

Tony was no longer on the side of a country road. He was suddenly in Gulmira watching small children begging and crying while men scarred them for lives by holding them at gunpoint with _his weapons._ He wasted no time killing all of the threats, but he flew away feeling sick. Terrorists were running this area of the world while he had been partying and womanizing with the profits. Things had to change.

Howard was handing him a glass of brown liquid, and Tony tried to give it back. He didn’t want it, it smelled bad and it reminded Tony of how his dad’s breath would smell when things were bad. Howard pushed it into his hand harder and glared at Tony, and he just wanted the man to look happy with him once. He downed the glass, and promptly broke off into a coughing fit while his throat burned and tasted acrid. Tony should’ve walked away.

Obadiah had the reactor in his hands and Tony sat, unable to move while the man disconnected the wires. The pain was excruciating, but he couldn’t cry, couldn’t scream. His father’s friend, the man who had helped raise him, walked away with Tony’s heart in hand. Tony should never have trusted him.

Tony took one last glance over their handiwork. The small group of senators had worked with him and Fury to write the law, made sure they were well-worded to do the greatest good. Masked heroes needed to be held accountable. Tony had made the mistake of being unaccountable before, had been the Merchant of Death; he wanted to save all his friends the pain of learning that lesson the hard way. The children who’d died in that explosion were his fault. Not directly, of course, but Tony knew better. He should have foreseen this and done something sooner. This was for the best. A flash of the future felt like a punch to the gut. Tony should’ve never made the Superhero Registration Act.

Tony was overcome with grief, sobbing into his hands as he lay next to Steve’s body. His Steve. Steve Rogers, beautiful, perfect man, the great Captain America was dead. The tears that streamed down his face felt hyper-real somehow. This was all his fault. How could he have let things spiral so far out of control. The love of his life was still and cold, and Tony would never be able to tell him how sorry he was. He should’ve listened to the man sooner. If sadness was going to kill him, this was it.

Steve stood awkwardly in front of Tony, and everything they had shared before was gone. Tony didn’t trust him, and he didn’t trust Tony. It was the greatest surprise in the world that Steve had never actually died, but the suffering had been real nonetheless. And now that he was here, Tony had no idea where to start. He had failed with SHIELD, had barely survived the Skrulls, and his health was failing, his brain slowing. Steve shifted on his feet, sadness so clear in his eyes that Tony felt like it stabbed him in the heart. He needed to explain everything, that he regretted all of it, but his brain just wouldn’t seem to work fast enough.

The entire city of Paris is full of statues. No, he berates himself, they’re not statues. The population of Paris was turned to stone because he couldn’t convince Odin to help him save it fast enough. Half of the fight with serpent had nearly killed his friends while he was taking far too long in Nidavellir making their weapons worthy. If Tony had just been a little more focused, things may have gone smoothly. Every casualty in Paris was a failure that ate at him from the inside out. Tony should’ve never even tried to claim he was a hero.

The trust that had taken them so long to rebuild after Civil War was shattered again. Steve couldn’t even meet Tony’s gaze anymore, and being around any of Tony’s friends made him want to curl up and die. There were so many secrets and lies between them all for the Illuminati, and it wasn’t worth it. Following their plans to destroy other worlds… What had he been thinking? Tony never learned or grew wiser, his mistakes just did more and more damage. He regretted who he was to the core.

There was no more Tony Stark. He was sadness, grief, regret, angst, emotional anguish incarnate. Far away, in another time, his knees hurt and his cheeks were wet with warm, sticky tears. Every painful memory of his regrets flashed before his eyes and they each felt like another sword through his center. The pain was unbearable, and he wished he’d just die already.

…

When Steve made it to the gps coordinates JARVIS, he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. Tony had never made it to the meeting this morning, and Pepper had called Steve demanding to speak to the genius. When Steve assured her that no, Tony had never come home, and no he wasn’t just covering for the man, the fear had started to settle in. Together they traced Tony’s phone through the night, and for some reason it had stopped traveling in the middle of nowhere, and was still there.

Steve pulled over onto the shoulder of the road in front of Tony, and got out at a run. "Tony! What are you-" he stopped short. Tony was on his knees, shaky breaths in between heaving sobs wracking his small frame. The smears and streams down his face were of blood, and the man was clearly not present. Steve waved a hand in front of Tony’s face, but he didn’t even blink. Steve knelt down beside him, terrified and unsure what to do. The car was gone, someone must’ve taken it after they left him like this, but what did they do!? Tony’s pained gasp urged Steve through the fear, and he put a hand on the man’s shoulder. He shook it violently, screaming at Tony to please wake up. It took several minutes before the man blinked hard, and seemed to suddenly become aware of his surroundings.

Tony was back, on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, but now it was daytime. Where had the girl gone? Who was shaking him? "Steve?" he rasped, eyes wide with confusion. "Why are you here? Where’s the girl?"

The relief was dizzying. "What girl? Tony, what happened?"

"She was here, her eyes were black- Aaah!" He pitched forward suddenly, hand automatically grasping at his chest with the sudden tightness and sharp pain, but he breathed through it, and it slowly lessened.

"Tony! I’m calling an ambulance," Steve dialed 911. Tony was shaking his head, murmuring something about being fine, but the man was clearly not ok.

Whatever the girl had done to him with her black eyes, he remembered all of it. Tony felt the pain of it wash over him again, the shock of snapping away from the trance gone. Regular, saltwater tears mixed with the dried blood on his face. "Oh god," he moaned. People weren’t meant to deal with this much at once. There was a reason Tony pushes things away to deal with later, one at a time, preferably with alcohol handy. Steve was still talking to someone on the phone, but it all seemed distant. The dead Steve on the table in front of him, a ghost of the past, seemed far more real. "I’m so sorry," he sobbed. His heart squeezed painfully again, and maybe the universe would have mercy and just smite him.

It didn’t seem like there was warning before Tony slumped over, lying unconscious. His breathing became more even without the sobbing, but he looked pale. No one could look healthy with bloody tears all over them, though, so Steve tried to just take comfort in the fact that he was still breathing. The medics were almost there. Tony dialed JARVIS and Pepper, updating them on the situation so someone can start looking for the car.

…

Tony woke up with a start. He was in a hospital bed, and Steve was watching him warily. He was tired, and had an IV in with a simple saline solution, but that was it. Clearly whatever had been causing his chest pain had been nothing, like he told Steve, but he couldn’t really blame the man for the precaution. Tony was hardly known for his stellar cardiac health. "Did you find the girl?" Steve nodded, tears forming but not spilling. Tony grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a kiss. "Hey, it’s fine, right?"

Steve nodded again, and took a steadying breath. "Xavier stopped in while you were out, explained what happened, and they found her with your car on the way to an airport. She had been trying to get to Madripoor, where she’s from."

Tony blinked. Xavier had been in his head? Saw all of, well, that pain? God, no wonder Steve looked so stricken. He couldn’t imagine what it must sound like explained allowed. Hopefully Professor X had been skimpy on the details. "Who was she? All I can think of now is that urban legend with the scary black-eyed children. You know? With the weird approaching adults alone and people think they’re aliens or something?"

Steve shook his head. "Is that one of those creepypasta things Clint told me about?" Tony snorted, and Steve was so thankful to have him back. That sobbing shell of pure pain had not been his husband. "Anyway, she goes by Gazing Nightshade. She’s a mutant, apparently when she looks into your eyes she can put you in a ‘trance-like state full of sorrow fueled by your deepest regrets’ according to Xavier. He didn’t tell me what he saw by the way, if you’re worried."

Tony let out a long breath, thinking. "That’s a scary power. How did that land me here?"

"Doc said a prolonged state of such grief can cause your heart to temporarily malfunction, it should be fine now though. Broken Heart Syndrome. The bloody tears-"

"Wait, bloody tears?"

Steve nodded, a look of horror on his face for a moment. "Oh, yeah, your face was covered in wet and dried blood, it was terrifying Tony." He shuddered. "That’s part of her power too, makes your eyes and hers bleed. Mutants are weird sometimes."

"God, Steve I’m so sorry you had to see me like that…" He couldn’t even imagine finding Steve in that state.

The humorless laugh that escaped him was almost a sob. "No, I am so sorry you went through that. If you want to talk about it, I think you should, I mean, I’m here to listen, unless you don’t want it to be me," It was rare for Steve to be the one rambling, and Tony squeezed his hand until he stopped.

"Hey, it’s okay now. And I agree, I should talk about it. Can we talk about it when we get home?" Tony smiled tentatively. This new open thing had come with their engagement, and stuck around into the marriage. They had agreed it was their best chance to avoid repeating their many past mistakes. It often left Tony feeling raw and exposed, but Steve was there to soothe it.

Steve returned the small smile. "Yeah, I’d like that."


	24. Blood Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve, Tony, and Peter grab the telescope and head out for a nighttime picnic under the blood moon. They all know the blood moon is just an excuse for the outing, but it doesn't matter. It's a beautiful sight and Peter can have some alone time with his dads. The tower was great, but sometimes it got to be a little overwhelming, and Peter had only been there for a couple years now. It was nothing like growing up with Aunt May and Uncle Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think blood moons are pretty, and this was a nice little excuse to write a fluffy one-shot. I think I was actually successful at writing fluff for once! I usually get so angsty by accident. Let me know what you think!

"Then if you turn this knob here," Tony indicated the knob on the side of the eyepiece, "You can adjust how focused it is." He stepped back, and let Peter take a look. The blood moon was plenty visible without the telescope, of course, but this was more fun. Plus Steve had convinced them to make is a nighttime picnic. Tony settled onto the blanket beside Steve while Peter fiddled with the telescope. They held up their wine glasses, "Cheers to our little genius."

When Peter seemed satisfied with his understanding of the telescope, he came back to the blanket. "Hey dads?" He fidgeted, not sitting down.

"What is it?" Steve asked, Peter was rarely nervous to ask them for things by now. He had been living in the tower for two years now, Aunt May having supported the adoption wholeheartedly. She still got to remain in Peter’s life, and he got to live with parents a little more… suited to his needs. May was great, but not a superhero. Plus she had never wanted him to see her as his mom anyway. Just a cool aunt.

"Can I try wine?" Peter blushed.

Tony burst out laughing, and Peter blushed deeper. Steve punched the man. "Ow! Hey!" Steve glared at the man, and Tony met it defiantly, before laughing again. "Definitely not," he answered at the same time that Steve said ‘sure, why not?’

Peter looked between them, confused. He plopped down onto the blanket. "Oh-kayyy, I see this needs discussing."

Steve turned to his partner, surprised. "He’s nearly eighteen, why don’t you want him to be able to try it?"

Tony looked just as surprised. "He’s a child! Why do you want him drinking already?"

"It’s not like he’s asking to start drinking regularly, he wants to try a sip of wine."

"It doesn’t take much to get started, believe me."

"Peter is a good kid, he could’ve easily just drank elsewhere but he asked us first."

"I know Peter’s a good kid, Steve, that’s not what this is about."

"Then what is it about? Is this about you and Howard?"

Peter watched his dads argue, looking back and forth between them. This is exactly why he hadn’t wanted to ask. A perfectly nice family picnic had become a small feud. He laid back with a sigh, staring up at the blood moon. Tuning them out was getting easier. Peter loved them so much, all of the avengers family, but boy could they turn the smallest disagreement into the largest fight. He supposed it probably had to do with living in a constant battle-ready state. Maybe he should stark taking notes on them all. The Psychology of Superheroes. It could be a thesis in grad school or something. Even though the plan was still chemistry. Tony had multiple PhDs, why not him?

"Yes, Steve, because everything with me is always about Howard," Tony bit out sarcastically.

Steve growled in frustration. "Well? Kind of! What am I supposed to think when a normally reasonable man won’t let his 17 year old son have a taste of wine?"

"That I’m being completely unreasonable. Yep, that must be it, you’re right, what was I thinking? Not, maybe that I wanted to have a longer discussion about alcohol with you and our son before he started drinking. That I’d like there to be some ground rules and maybe give some warnings of my own. Nope, Steve is the level-headed reasonable one, always, and I’m just a neurotic scientist."

Peter had had enough. He sat up while Tony ranted, watching his face carefully. This was how Tony got when he wanted to hide his pain or anxiety. Everything quickly became an affront to his being, and it usually quickly spiraled into self-deprecation until someone stopped him. "Dad!" Peter shouted.

Tony felt his mouth snap shut, hit teeth clicking together. He looked at Peter, then at Steve, and back again. "I did the thing again, didn’t I?" Peter nodded while Steve rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "God, I’m sorry," he ran a hand through his tangled curls. "I ruined another family outing."

Peter scooched over until he was wedged between the two men, forcing them to adjust. The blanked was all messed up now, but nobody cared. Peter pointed up at the blood moon. "We talked about this at school. A blood moon is red because while it is actually a total lunar eclipse, the Rayleigh scattering of the violet spectrum light waves by the Earth’s atmosphere, and leaves the red waves alone." Tony’s mouth twitched as he watched his brilliant son expertly diffuse a situation. How had he gotten lucky enough to meet a kid like this, and for the kid to choose him as a father?

Steve listened to the explanation, awed. "I never knew that. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" He reached over and ruffled Peter’s hair. This kid was smart and sensitive, who could ask for more? Steve had made a lot of mistakes in life, but the family he ended up with was worth every single one.

Peter nodded. "It makes me want to paint." They sat in silence for a long moment, each looking up at the lunar eclipse and thinking about different things, but all about family. Peter let out a soft sigh. "Dad, I think ordering your thoughts on it and having a long talk with me is a great idea. Pops, thanks for trusting me with it right away. Both of you are knuckleheads." Steve huffed out a laugh and Tony snorted. "But Pops doesn’t think you’re neurotic, and Dad knows he’s being a tad unreasonable because he wasn’t prepared to deal with the emotions that came with the topic. I love you both, now stop it."

They were both outright laughing now, and hugged Peter between them. "And Peter is apparently a psychologist," Steve laughed. Peter was blushing now, but happy the night had turned around again. They ate and talked, and Tony played catch the grapes with Peter while Steve judged. It was a good night. Tony decided he should look into more astronomy excuses to take his family on night time picnics. Getting away from the tower was good for them.


	25. Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious sorceress appeared and kidnapped Tony on an average day, during an average team breakfast. There was no warning, and almost no time to react. Thor had really hoped he wouldn't have to be the one to reveal Tony's secret past with Morgan le Fay, but everyone's shocked and confused looks gave him little option. "I know little of what modern Midgard considers to be fact or fiction of King Arthur, but Asgard knew of him..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This references chapter 22, the one about dreams with Nightmare and Strange. It's not necessary to read it if you just want to jump in here, so don't feel any pressure to backtrack.
> 
> This also references a couple Iron Man 616 events that involve Doom. Where these would fit into the timeline of this group of Avengers meeting each other is a complete mystery, so don't overthink it. They're just one-shots.

Tony Stark had foiled Morgan le Fay for the last time. First it had been back with Merlin and Doctor Doom and the whole Excalibur nonsense ( _Iron Man: Doomquest, Iron Man: Legacy of Doom_ ). The man wasn’t even a sorcerer for Gaea’s sake! How the hell he had escaped Mephisto from that Hell was beyond her entirely. Mephisto was nearly powerless within his own realm. Now he had been instrumental in disrupting her plans with Nightmare to take down Stephen Strange. ( _Chap. 22- Dreams_ ) She was finished with this thorn in her side and would show no more mercy.

The Avengers were having an average breakfast when she appeared. Tony was staring ahead, not really awake, while he sipped his coffee, with Thor across from him. A woman with long dark hair and green eyes appeared silently behind the god, a faint purple aura around her. Clint noticed her first, but she only had eyes for Tony.

Clint clamoured out of his seat, aiming the nearest of Natasha’s guns at the intruder. "Who the fuck-"

"Silence," the woman said with a small flick of her hand. Clint went flying through the air, crashing into a wall behind him and slumping to the floor, unconscious. Everyone was definitely aware of her presence now. The team had moved into wary battle stances, except for Thor and Tony. Thor was just in front of her, so he turned to eye her cautiously, but did not dare move. Tony was staring with wide-eyed recognition.

"Morgana!? What are you doing here?" he squeaked. She smiled at his obvious fear. With a single upward sweep of an arm, both her and Tony disappeared, leaving behind a stunned silence.

Natasha ran over to check on Clint. "He should be okay," she said over her shoulder. "Small concussion for him."

"Did Tony know that woman?" Steve asked. He glanced around the room. Phil wasn’t home, and Bruce was in his lab already. It was probably for the best, because Hulk would not help the already confusing situation.

"Odin’s beard," Thor breathed, breaking his uncharacteristic silence. "That was Morgan le Fay." He looked troubled, and deep in thought.

Natasha had walked back towards them, and pushed Steve back into a seat before the man passed out. He had locked his knees and was clearly a little in shock. That alone seemed to break Steve out of it, and his Captain demeanor took over. "Do you mean Morgana like from Arthurian legend?" she asked Thor.

Thor considered her. "Aye, if by Arthurian you mean to speak of Arthur Pendragon. His court and royal sorcerer Merlin are no fiction, though."

"JARVIS, gather the others. Thor, update all of us on what you know of this Morgan and why Tony would know her." Steve commanded.

With the others gathered around, and Clint now awake and nursing a headache, they waited for Thor. "I know little of what modern Midgard considers to be fact or fiction of King Arthur, but Asgard knew of him. He was one of the great Midgardian kings, and Merlin was the Sorcerer Supreme of his time. Morgan le Fay, back then known as Morgana, was a natural sorceress with raw power beyond her own control. It ate at her, and she sought help from darker forces to learn how to tame it. She became a major foe for the kingdom of Camelot, and nearly destroyed it with the help of Mephisto and an undead army, led by Victor von Doom. She was only defeated and weakened for a time due to Arthur’s knight and the mysterious aid of a man in magic red armor, who went by Iron Man." Thor paused for the gasps he knew would come before continuing. He knew the day this secret was revealed would come, but had no idea when, nor how much it would sting to let his teammates know he had already known. He had sort of hoped Tony would tell first, though he suspected the man’s memories may have been wiped. "There was also a magical sword, Excalibur, that in more modern times resurfaced. Morgan helped Doom recreate it from a fragment, but Iron Man got the last piece, and the two needed it whole to defeat a giant inter-dimensional eyeball monster. So Iron Man agreed to let Doom stab him through the heart with the rest of Excalibur, and his death destroyed the monster. Then Merlin’s spirit brought Iron Man back, though I can only presume by the looks on your faces, without memory of the events. That or Anthony has been keeping a lot of secrets."

Thor’s spiel was met with silence. Bruce’s shaking hand set down his tea, and the soft clink on the counter sounded far too loud. "Maybe I do need to see a doctor, because Thor is making no sense," Clint broke the silence.

Steve was reeling. How many things had Tony kept from them? Had he been time travelling and fighting legends this whole time when no one was looking? Had this been before they all met and Tony never felt the need to say? Did Tony truly just not remember it? But he had clearly recognized the sorceress in their kitchen. "Maybe it was a different Iron Man. How would we know it was Tony?"

"Unless someone else had identical armor, it was Stark," Thor responded confidently. "I was not on Midgard at the time, but I spent many hours watching the adventures of Camelot through Heimdall’s windows. I recognized it when we first met."

"Why didn’t you say anything?" Steve snapped. How was the team supposed to operate of they were keeping things like this from each other?

"Steve, think of how the timeline could’ve been irreparably altered if he had told us. What if Tony hadn’t done it yet and the knowledge changed his reactions to everything?" Natasha reasoned before Thor had to. She understood Steve’s emotional response, but Thor’s decision had certainly been for the best.

Thor nodded sagely. "Aye, I was forbidden for that very reason. Time travel is tricky, and being around as long as I have means I often meet people I have already met or seen who don’t yet know me. It is a difficulty I have grown familiar with while living here."

"Well that’s cryptic," Phil replied drily.

"So what do we do?" Steve asked finally. He had no idea how to take on a sorceress this powerful. Strange and Thor had both recognized her voice back in the Nightmare Realm, and had been clearly unhappy about it. "Should I call Strange?"

"I think that may be helpful. Unfortunately," Thor looked pained to say it, "I think my brother would be most suited for this, however."

He was loathe to admit it, but Steve thought Thor was probably right. "You call Loki, see if he’ll help. For now, let’s try to leave Strange out of it, since he’s already so busy this time of year."

…

All it took was a blink, and Tony’s kitchen was gone, replaced by the firescape of Mephisto’s Hell. "What do you want Morgana?" Tony spat angrily. "I have no business with you, I leave you alone, you leave me alone. That was our deal." Tony hadn’t been back here since the last time when he had to fight off a demonic faux Howard in order to escape. Morgana had her own hideouts, he knew, so why were they here? He really did not have the tools or energy to deal with Mephisto himself, if he could even pray to lay a scratch on Morgana.

"Oh, I remember our deal, Stark. That was before you interfered in the Nightmare Realm last year." Tony rolled his eyes, holding in the frustrated growl that tried to escape him. It’s not like he had known Morgana was part of that whole disaster until it was too late. "You broke the deal first, and I’m getting revenge."

"I didn’t know you were working with Nightmare. All I knew was that Strange asked for our help, and I went. That should hardly count against me."

Morgana waved a hand, and Tony was now being forced into an upright starfish position, each limb chained to some invisible force and being pulled taut. It was not a comfortable way to be held up against gravity, and his shoulders already ached. "I care not for your reasons. You’ve irritated me long enough, and Mephisto was willing to let me use his realm after you embarrassed him the last time." She walked around him in a slow circle, examining her handiwork. "I figure I’ll just torture you for awhile, until I’m bored. Then he can keep you."

"What do you gain from that?" Tony tried to keep his voice calm. Morgana enjoyed fear, especially from men. She was more likely to release him if he could appeal to logic. "All you’re doing is making enemies out of the Avengers."

The slow grin was wicked, and Morgana’s eyes were already glowing purple with hungry power. "I’m okay with that." Tony didn’t have the chance to prepare himself before all he heard were his own screams. The pain was everywhere, no apparent source or focal point because fucking _magic_. It felt like being burned alive, but with no end in sight or deadening of the nerves. Instead, Tony tried to writhe in agony, but that only pulled harshly at his joints. Through his now blurry vision, he could tell Morgana was laughing, but the sound was lost to him. She didn’t seem to have any motivation to let up and give him a breather, so Tony had to take the small gasps his body forced him to take when his lungs grew too thirsty. With the way the magic was consuming him, he had no control over his bodily mechanics anymore. A far away part of his mind wondered if he had pissed himself. This was truly hell.

…

"I think this is a bad idea," Clint said, throwing another paper airplane at Loki’s head. Loki let it phase through him, not even sparing the archer a glance.

"You’ve made that very clear, Barton, now drop it." Steve grit out. That got Clint to hesitate before throwing another. Steve hadn’t called him Barton in a long time. "So will you help us or not?"

"I have no ill will towards Morgan le Fay, but my brother dearest has made it difficult to refuse you," Loki drawled. A brief look of disgust passed over his face before it returned to its usual smugness. Thor was standing behind him looking equally smug. Steve thought they looked more like brothers than enemies then, even if Loki had been adopted.

"I really don’t want to know," Steve decided. "The point is, you’ll help. What do you need from us?"

Loki chuckled and Steve clenched his fists to keep from punching the cheeky bastard. "I need no help from you."

"Well you’re certainly not going alone," Phil inserted himself smoothly. "So at least let us in on your brilliant plan," he said sarcastically.

Loki looked like he might argue, but Thor moved behind him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. "Brother! Fine, you can accompany me. Morgana took him to Mephisto’s realm. If you want your Iron Man back alive, we will need Mephisto’s permission to take him. I cannot defeat that demon in his own realm." The Asgardian looked like it physically pained him to admit there were people more powerful than him. Natasha thought it was funny, because he always seemed to conveniently forget that the Avengers had taken him down.

Steve huffed. "Well, lead the way, Loki. We’re kind of in a hurry."

Loki smiled, amused. "Aye-aye, Captain."

The portal Loki opened beneath them, with no warning, dropped them from above ground. The god of mischief looked very pleased with himself as everyone picked themselves off the ground, grumbling. "Never gets old," he murmured, chuckling to himself. "Ow!" Thor punched Loki in the arm. "It was just a bit of fun!"

In front of them stood a being Steve could only assume was Mephisto. The man was crimson, and wore a cloak not dissimilar to Strange’s Cloak of Levitation. His boots were a slightly darker red than his own skin, along with pants that had some sort of long loin cloth attached to them. The pointed ears and deep widows peak reminded Clint of one of the elves from Lord of the Rings. "May I ask why you are trespassing in my home?" His arms were crossed.

Loki bowed, "Apologies. I have been asked by the Avengers here to retrieve a stolen teammate." They all stared at Loki, shocked. They had never seen him sound so… respectful.

Mephisto, in contrast, was looking at the god thoughtfully. "Stand, Asgardian." Loki obliged, glancing around at the others before resting wary eyes back on their host. His obnoxiously entitled brother and their friends were an embarrassment to stand next to. "While I would love to help, Anthony Stark was rightfully mine before he was an Avenger. He left my realm without my leave. When Morgan le Fay offered to retrieve my property, I was pleased."

Loki’s frown deepened. Steve looked like he was about to retort, but Loki caught him with a glare first, giving a subtle shake of his head. "Respectfully, that isn’t quite accurate." Before the demon could interrupt, he continued quickly. "The deal you made with Victor von Doom was under false pretenses. He did not own Iron Man to be able to trade him for the sword. Anthony was tricked into your realm and betrayed."

The silence was tense while they waited for the demon to consider Loki’s words. Bruce watched the interaction carefully, keeping the Hulk away for now. If Loki was being submissive, it meant he probably hadn’t been lying about how powerful this demon was here. A fight was not what they wanted, but he was growing more worried for Tony. And angry at his friend for never mentioning any of it.

A throne appeared beneath Mephisto as he sat, and he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I see. And I should believe you because?"

"Ask Doom yourself."

Mephisto smiled. "I can make a deal with you Avengers. I will fetch the man in question if when I ask Doom about this accusation, I am convinced of Loki Laufeyson’s version of events instead of Victor’s, then I will keep him instead. Iron Man’s fate will be in my hands. If I do not release him, however, there will be no fighting from you lot. How’s that sound?" He stood, hands on his hips.

Steve couldn’t see that he really had a choice here. He shared a look with the rest of the team, but was only met with regretful shrugs. "I guess we have a deal." Mephisto grinned maliciously, shaking the Captain’s hand. He was going to get either Doom or Stark out of this, and best case scenario, he’d get Captain America too, for betraying an official deal. It was truly a win-win for him.

"Good, we have a deal. Now leave my home. You will have either have your teammate back or not in twenty four hours, there’s nothing you can do." He snapped his fingers, and the team was back in the kitchen.

"Goddamnit!" The crash of the chair against the wall startled everyone. Steve stood over the pieces, his chest heaving. "How can I be so powerless?"

Natasha stepped towards him, a hand placed gently on his shoulder. "We’re out of our depth with demons." She murmured. Behind her, Bruce was already sprinting for the stairs. It was pretty safe to assume he was headed to the ‘Hulk-proof’ training bunk Tony had designed.

"That you most certainly are," Loki replied snidely. She shot him a scathing look, but softened her expression when she saw his own. He actually looked vaguely apologetic. "I am too." He spoke quieter this time. "I can try and create a viewing window for now, so you can at least see Stark." Steve turned, looking hopeful.

"I don’t know if that’s actually a good idea," Clint tried, slumping into the kitchen chair in front of him. "Is it going to help any of us to helplessly watch whatever the bitch is doing to him?" It sounded more tired than harsh.

Steve pushed off the wall, heading towards his room. "I don’t know Clint, but I need to do something." His voice broke. Standing in the entryway but not turning back, he spoke quietly, "If you could, Loki, I’d be grateful." Then he was gone.

"This has been a strange experience for me," Loki said. No one responded, and he knew when he was even less welcome than usual. "Brother, let us speak with Heimdall."

…

The only respite was when Morgana would get bored of one spell and move onto another. At some point burning turned into crushing pain, which would eventually morph into the stabbing pain of invisible knives through him in all directions. Tony had no idea the woman hated him so much. Or perhaps she just needed someone to torture, and he was a convenient pastime for her. It was weird to think about how this much pain could come out of just one angry enemy, one bored sorceress looking for an outlet. "Please," he breathed.

That only seemed to encourage her, and suddenly everything grew worse. Tony screamed, or tried to, but his voice was barely there anymore. "I must admit, I’m curious to see how long your body can put up with this level of stress. Magical torture is so understudied." She spoke conversationally, as though they were friends. Tony watched her with wide eyes, gasping when he could. He had stopped being able to produce tears a while ago. How long he had been here was impossible to determine, because for him it felt like a week. "Did you know I used to abhor the very idea of harming someone?" She laughed ruefully. "I tried to be good, but when so many tell you you’re evil for so long, it sinks in. Eventually I thought, why not embrace it? It is easier."

"Oh my god," Steve whispered, watching the enchanted mirror Loki had given him. It felt unreal, watching Tony suffer like that for no reason at all. It was impossible to even tell what she was doing to the man, only that he was in agony. There were five hours left of the 24 hours Mephisto had given himself. That meant Tony had only been in Hell for a little over 20 hours, but he looked like he had been there for a week. Loki hadn’t been able to explain how the magic or Hell itself would affect Tony, so they could only pray there was no permanent damage.

"Oh, look at that!" Morgana breathed excitedly. Tony obviously couldn’t see what excited the madwoman, but the sudden pins and needles in his chest and the increasing difficulty in breathing gave him a pretty good clue. "The light in your chest flickers ominously, Iron Man. Perhaps your precious technology doesn’t like this."

Tony let his head fall, resting his chin on his chest. It probably made breathing even harder, but he didn’t have the energy anymore to keep his head upright. At this angle, he could see the arc reactor flickering. It was not a comforting sight. With great effort, he leaned his head back so at least he wouldn’t have to watch himself die.

"Enough," a male voice shouted, and suddenly Tony was crumpled on the ground, coughing and sore. The magic was no longer extending his pain though. Tony rolled around, to see the newcomer, and recognized Mephisto immediately. Next to him was a very unhappy looking Victor von Doom.

Morgan whirled around in surprise. "What is this? We had a deal."

"Sorry Morgan, but Anthony wasn’t mine to offer, apparently. I actually own Doom if you’d like him." The demon pushed Doom forward where he stumbled, but caught himself before falling.

She scoffed. "I have no interest in him. Keep him for yourself." Without any further conversation, she disappeared in a swirl of purple and black.

Mephisto turned to look at Tony on the ground. He shrugged with a very not apologetic at all expression. "Misunderstanding, sorry." Tony glared at him, but he still felt too out of breath to say anything. "Until next time," he sing-songed.

Tony felt no change, but was slowly aware that he was back home. He groaned, looking down at the reactor. It was no longer flickering, and he was slowly catching his breath. "Tony! Oh thank god," Steve ran full tilt into the kitchen, sliding slightly on his knees as he dropped to the ground to grasp Tony.

"Hey Steve," he rasped, looking up at the worried blond. "Long time no see." Tony promptly threw up onto the ground beside him. "I don’t feel great."

"Tony, babe, let me help you up. We can go to medical," Steve started, but Tony shook his head.

"Noooo, just take me to bed," he whined.

"Tony," Steve replied worriedly, already scooping the man off the vomit covered floor and into his lap.

"If I may, Captain, his reactor is fully functional and he shows no signs of damage that a hospital is needed for," JARVIS interjected.

Steve ran a hand through Tony’s sweat soaked locks. "I watched you, but I couldn’t do anything," he said softly.

Tony leaned into the touch. Every muscle in his body ached, and he was starving and exhausted. "Bed," he moaned. He knew Steve needed to talk and the others would want to see him. Plus, Tony wanted to know how Steve had apparently watched him in hell and knew he was going to have some explaining to do about Morgana, but he couldn’t do any of that right now. "Please."

The room felt like it was spinning as Steve stood up with him. "Right, sorry," Steve said quickly. Tony squeezed his eyes shut against the dizziness and wave of nausea. He focused solely on his breathing until it passed. The coolness of the sheets felt amazing. Steve started to tuck him under the blanket, but Tony kicked it all off. "Okay, no blankets. Just sleep Tony." He didn’t need to be told twice. Not that he could stay awake if he tried.

Tony slept through a whole day. He didn’t even flinch when they inserted the IV to rehydrate him, and Steve gave him a simple wash with a cool washcloth. He desperately needed to eat, too, but they decided to let him sleep the initial soreness off. Literally going through Hell, Tony had still been through worse than this. Sleep was the best thing for him now, even if it was killing the team not to be able to talk to him. They could wait.


	26. Séance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint looked down at the flyer Phil had handed him. "A séance? Like talking to the dead? You can’t be serious." The bad Microsoft Word Art at the top said **Meet the Mystical Madame Meryll** and below had details of an event one could attend for five dollars and see a **real séance! Don’t pass up on the chance to hear what dead loved ones have to say!** " How exactly is this supposed to be a mission?" Clint eyed his boyfriend with disbelief.
> 
> Phil draped his tie over an open drawer beside their bed, quietly changing out of his suit so he could relax around the tower. "It’s a request from Xavier," he explained. "Apparently this Meryll might be an up and coming mutant, but the X-Men want some people to go investigate undercover before they contact her. Since you and I are probably the least recognizable out of the team, it seemed an obvious choice. Strange will be coming along, since he can actually detect magic."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw an opportunity to bring in Heather Douglas, AKA Moondragon, and I had to take it. She's like my favourite Marvel lesbian, so who could blame me? This one is all focused on Clint, Phil, and Strange. If you've only been reading these for other characters, you may as well skip this chapter. The other Avengers aren't here. It does touch a little on Clint's parents, so just a warning for that angst I guess.
> 
> Sorry I've fallen so far behind! If anyone is still out there reading this, that is.

Phil came home from a long day on the helicarrier and greeted Clint by shoving the piece of paper in his face saying, "We have a mission." The paper was glossy. It looked like one of those mailer flyers that people shove under doors to try and get as many people to see it as possible. Clint was surprised they hadn’t died out as a concept yet, given social media had become a much easier method for disseminating information.

Clint looked down at the flyer Phil had handed him. "A séance? Like talking to the dead? You can’t be serious." The bad Microsoft Word Art at the top said **Meet the Mystical Madame Meryll** and below had details of an event one could attend for five dollars and see a **real séance! Don’t pass up on the chance to hear what dead loved ones have to say!** " How exactly is this supposed to be a mission?" Clint eyed his boyfriend with disbelief.

Phil draped his tie over an open drawer beside their bed, quietly changing out of his suit so he could relax around the tower. "It’s a request from Xavier," he explained. "Apparently this Meryll might be an up and coming mutant, but the X-Men want some people to go investigate undercover before they contact her. Since you and I are probably the least recognizable out of the team, it seemed an obvious choice. Strange will be coming along, since he can actually detect magic."

Clint flopped backwards onto the bed. "So what are we supposed to do? Seems like Strange would have it covered just fine."

"Strange is there to look for real magic, and to determine if it is learned sorcery or raw mutant power. You’re there to look for indications that it’s a con, since you’re our resident con-man." Phil replied drily, looking down at Clint with a small smirk.

The responding glare he got before Clint hit him with a pillow was well worth it. "I would think Natasha is a better con artist than an old carnie like me," he drawled. They both knew that Natasha was a great spy, but Clint could pull off a con like nobody’s business. The older man laid down beside the archer on the bed, and they turned to face each other. "What, and you’re just there to be my eye candy?"

That brought out a real smile. "Something like that."

…

The inconspicuous grey honda rolled quietly through the neighborhood. It was a far cry from the sleek black cars SHIELD used or the limos and sports cars of Tony’s collection. "I still don’t see why Happy couldn’t have just dropped us off a block away, and we could walk the rest of the way," Clint grumbled, eyes searching for some street parking available.

"We might not be the only ones with our eyes on this medium, there could be Hellfire Club scouts here tonight, or something along those lines, so we should be as covert as we can. It’s bad enough we have no defenses against psychics, although Strange says he can handle it." Phil pulled into a spot about two blocks from the house on the flyer. "Plus, it’s nice to have just the two of us."

Clint pulled him up onto the sidewalk into a kiss, savoring the small whine he elicited from Phil as he pulled away. "I suppose you’re right," Clint murmured into his ear.

"Shall I give you two a moment?" a voice came from just behind Clint.

They startled apart, Phil quickly looking unflappable as usual, but Clint clearly annoyed. "Haven’t we talked about warning people you’re there, Strange?" The Sorcerer looked the picture of innocence, but Clint could see the cruel glee dancing in his eyes. Tony and Strange may act like they were so different, but Clint knew the truth. They were basically the same person, and they both equally loved to fuck with him.

"Of course, apologies," Dr. Strange said. He began leading the way down the street. The two SHIELD agents shared a look before following. "There shouldn’t be any threat to safety here," he spoke casually. Clint reached down and intertwined hands with Phil. "However, if this is a mutant new to her powers, she may have less control on them than she thinks. I feel bad for mutants gaining all their abilities at once. Magic is easier to control when learned in practice and spellbooks. Jean Grey is on standby should things get out of hand."

"Why aren’t the X-Men just investigating this themselves?" Clint asked.

Phil answered before Strange could, "Apparently they’ve found that the kids have an easier time trusting them and adjusting to the school if their first experience isn’t with their teachers using false identities. I can’t imagine why." Clint snorted.

The house looked like an average middle-income family house on the outskirts of New York. There were two stories, a small porch with narrow stairs framed by two white pillars, and a white and faded sky blue paint job that was flaking. It was technically a duplex, attached to the address next door. Watching Strange climb the small steps before them, Clint was hit with how bizarre the man looked in normal clothing. He realized he’s never seen the sorcerer without his cloak or the Eye of Agamotto hanging from his neck, though that was probably still there, just tucked under the sweater. It was an odd reminder that Stephen Strange had lived a whole life before becoming a sorcerer.

A teenager opened the door and ushered them in. "Welcome, welcome!" She held out her hand expectantly until they each placed a five dollar bill in her hand. Her grin was reminiscent of Clint’s in childhood when they had a good scam going and he was going to be able to treat himself with the income. She was already barely paying attention to them, counting the number of bills in her hands. "Séance is in the next room," she waved them off distractedly.

Clint looked around the room. The front door led into a small kitchen, to the left was a doorway into what looked like a cramped family room with some mismatch furniture, and in front of them in the direction the girl had waved was an entryway into a dining room. There was a backdoor that led into the dining room that was straight across the house from the front door. Given the placement of the room, the stairway must be between the family room and whatever was catercorner to their current position, against the inside wall of the kitchen. He had a vague memory of one of his foster homes having a similar layout.

They made their way into the dining room, and Clint had to hold in a laugh. The large circular table had a gaudy purple cloth thrown over it with a gold paisley pattern. In the center was a large crystal ball nestled into a silver base. There were already four other people, seemingly two couples, sitting around the table chatting quietly and ignoring the entrance of the new comers. Clint counted the chairs. There was room for the Mystical Meryll to join them, along with her doorman, and one other guest. Now fully into the room, he could see the other first floor room was an entertainment room of sorts with a loveseat in front of a large TV setup and numerous game consoles with wires tangling from every direction. From where he stood, he could see the start of some shelves that housed both books and DVDs, and the edge of a ping pong table. How there was room in the crowded space to play ping pong was beyond him. Maybe they had to shove things around depending on the activity.

Strange took the empty seat directly in front of the back door between an empty seat and one of the couples, and Clint and Phil took seats facing away from the entertainment room. The corner Clint was now facing had a small china hutch shoved in it, filled with dishware that looked like it may come crashing out at any moment. Phil started some conversation about a TV show that Clint pretended to know while he carefully felt around with his feet under the table for outlets or wires. Detecting nothing that way, he subtly felt around with his left hand but the table had rough wood on the underside and some nails or screws sticking out here and there, and he really didn’t want a splinter. If there was some tech that was going to put on a show for them, it wasn’t under the table anyway, he decided. The next thing to look out for would be any stream of light that could be from a projector hidden in the walls.

Phil could smell incense in the house, but it was wafting down from the second floor. It didn’t smell like any hallucinogens, but there was always the possibility it was being used to cover up an incriminating aroma. He wondered if Strange could already tell anything, or if they were all equally in the dark until this Meryll showed up. Initially, the girl at the door collecting money made him think this was probably a con, but when he thought about it further, teenagers making money off of newfound powers seemed just as likely as teenagers making money off of duping strangers. He was kind of hoping the night passed quickly because he and Clint had not had a night off, alone, in too long.

They heard the girl in the kitchen greeting a newcomer, and this one must be a friend because the girl kept talking a mile a minute as she led him into the dining room. "Here, you sit here and I’ll go get her," she gestured for the new boy to sit next to Clint before striding out of the room.

When she returned, she was being followed by a slightly darker skinned girl in a gold head wrap. Given how tight it was to the head and that there was no hair poking out underneath, Clint guessed she was probably bald or had a mohawk. In his periphery, Strange reacted to her visibly, though subtle enough that most lay people probably wouldn’t notice. It was just a slight tensing of his shoulders, something that would’ve been hidden if the man were wearing his cloak, and Clint wondered if it was a tell Strange had all the time. Maybe he could come play poker at the tower sometime.

"Good evening, I am Madame Meryll. I trust Zelma treated you well while I was meditating?" The possible medium/mutant’s accent was something neither Phil nor Clint could place. It didn’t sound put-on, in fact, it sounded like she was trying to hide it, so it was most likely real. That alone piqued the SHIELD agents’ interests because there were very few places in the world where they wouldn’t recognize the accent. As she took a seat, the lights in the room dimmed, and Clint glanced around to see that Zelma was at the switch.

Once they were all seated, Meryll held out her hands. "We must all hold hands." Phil’s hand was warm in Clint’s and the other boy’s hand was clammy and sweaty. He must be nervous, though whether it was because of the seance or his obvious crush on Zelma, Clint wasn’t sure. Meryll closed her eyes, "If anyone is present and would like to speak to us, please speak up now. I will convey your messages." Clint jumped slightly at the jolt of energy he felt travel through them. Their hands felt magnetically connected now, like Clint couldn’t let go if he wanted to. "Don’t be shy, go ahead," the medium continued.

The hair on the back of everyone’s necks raised with the energy in the room. Clint looked around for any sign of tech causing the change, but his sharp gaze caught nothing. This was most likely not a con. There was a moment of unnatural stillness and quiet before the crystal ball in the center filled with a milky white swirl that slowly morphed into a face. The face was pale and gaunt, and it seemed familiar, but Clint couldn’t place it. The odd warping of its dimensions by the globe and the fact that there was no body attached made it take longer for him to recognize. That was his mother.

"Clint? Clint, honey," her voice sounded far away, but when Clint looked over at the medium, her mouth was the one moving. "I’m sorry. I never got a chance to tell you, but I should have taken us away from him."

Phil turned sharply to look at his boyfriend. How did this woman know about his parents? What kind of shit did she think she was pulling? Either this was far more real than they had been prepared for or their cover was blown anyway. They needed to get out of here. Clint didn’t seem to notice Phil’s look, though. He was too busy staring at the orb, sweating bullets and forgetting to breathe. "M-mom?"

Strange was probing into both Meryll and Zelma’s minds. This was certainly not a hoax, but from what he was seeing, Meryll was no mutant either. Nor was her name Meryll. The young woman in question’s true name was Heather Douglas, not Maryll. While she was from California, a terran, her powers were developed far away on the planet Titan. She had psychic energy with a level of control beyond anything Strange had seen thus far in his life of sorcery, but she had no cause to put that energy towards. That was how she had come to making a living with simple séances and fortune telling. Perhaps with the right guidance, she could become a great protector for the realm.

Zelma, on the other hand, had something very… off about her. Her psychic vibrations were something Strange had never come across. She seemed to be a normal human, with no powers or sorcery, but there was something causing a scattering of her thoughts, and draining her life force. He stored that information away for later, honing his focus back onto the spirit in the room talking to Barton.

"Oh, baby, it’s so good to see you’re alright," the spirit spoke. Clint felt like he might pass out, forgetting entirely about the rest of the room or the mission at hand. He hadn’t heard his mother’s voice in so long, and it felt all consuming. If you had asked him if he even remembered what Edith Barton sounded like a week ago, he would’ve told you he had no idea. He had accepted the loss of even the memory of the woman long ago, hating his father for her death. The man was such a worthless drunk, it had definitely been his fault when they died in the car crash. She had been a meek woman, unwilling to stand up to Harold despite the fact that she clearly cared about her sons.

"You let him hurt us," Clint felt his voice rip through him against his will, and it hurt. He felt like he was gargling jagged stones, speaking to his mom. "How could you?"

The woman in the crystal ball swirled and blurred, before morphing into a man Clint didn’t recognize. "Jason," the man’s voice escaped Heather’s lips.

Clint could feel the boy next to him clench his hand tightly in reaction to the voice. It was hard to think straight about what was happening. His heart was racing and he felt like the world was moving slowly through a fog. His mom actually apologized? She was sorry for something? The phrase had sounded foreign on her lips. Not that it was fair for Clint to judge the woman. His parents had died when he was so young, his only memories of them were coloured by his brother’s stories and his nightmares. Maybe his father hadn’t been as terrifying as Clint remembered. Although, he had to be something scary to cause such a young child to hide in the ceiling all the time.

"Enough," Strange spoke up. Clint nearly jumped out of his skin at the volume. Strange broke the circle of hands, and was looking at Meryll sharply. They seemed to share a silent conversation through looks alone, before she inclined her head, conceding.

"Apologies, but our event must end early," she spoke solemnly. She glanced towards Strange before staring at Zelma. "I have more urgent matters I must attend to. If people would like their money back, return tomorrow. Every guest besides Barton, Coulson, and Strange, please leave." The other guests looked appalled, but didn’t argue, filing out of the house. So much for their cover.

"What the hell, dude?" Zelma asked furiously. The sharp look she got from her housemate made her sit back down. "Sorry," she murmured.

Phil and Clint shared a confused look, before Phil spoke up, "What are we missing?"

"Meryll here is actually Heather," Dr. Strange answered first. "She is known across a few galaxies as Moondragon." Heather was blushing fiercely, avoiding Zelma’s shocked gaze. "More importantly, Zelma could use my help." Zelma looked over at Strange, shocked.

"What?" She asked.

"You have mind maggots," Dr. Strange explained. "I can help, but it’ll take some time."

Zelma stood abruptly, backing away from the table. "Who are you people? Get out of my house!" Clint could understand the reaction. This random stranger was talking about mind magnets and knew their names. Plus she may have just found out that her roommate was actually an intergalactic hero.

Phil stood as well, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. His flat, calm demeanor was good for calming situations like this. "I’m sorry, ma’am, Dr. Strange often forgets to handle these things slowly." He gave her a small smile and held out his hand. "I’m Agent Coulson of SHIELD," he pulled out his government ID with his other hand while Zelma tentatively shook his outstretched hand. She stared at the ID for a moment before looking back at the stranger with wide eyes. Phil dropped her hand, gesturing for her to sit down again. She looked conflicted, but after a calm nod from Heather, she slumped back into a chair. "This is Agent Barton, and this is Dr. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme. We came to look into your powers, and assess if you needed help or if you were a threat," he explained to Heather.

"I’ve heard of you," Heather spoke up. "I was sort of hoping you’d turn up," she directed towards Strange. "Sorry I lied to you, Zelma, but it’s… complicated."

Zelma nodded, still looking very lost. "I bet," she muttered.

Strange stood, easily taking over the focus of the room. His appearance blurred and shifted into his usual clothing, and Clint couldn’t help but think he was just showing off. "I have all the information I need. Barton, Coulson, you may let Xavier know that he is not needed, I will take over from here."


	27. Cannibalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Cannibalism ( _n._ )**\- the practice of eating the flesh of one's own species.
> 
> **Cannibalize ( _v._ )**\- use (a machine) as a source of spare parts for another, similar machine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've given up entirely on this being timely, but I am trying to finish it up, because I have other much bigger projects to work on. This was a hard prompt for me, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ . I promise to finish eventually for those of you that are still reading! Kudos and comments give me life and motivation.

The android was the only other captor that had escaped the facility alive. She and Tony had been fighting off mercenaries for about an hour, but there only seemed to be a few left. If they could make it somewhere safe to just think, they could figure out a way to get off this planet. They fought well together, despite never even meeting each other until today. Maybe she’d be interested in Earth and the Avengers. Tony wondered if she was from here, or maybe Earth, or if she was from somewhere galaxies away. When Tony had got a hold of the suit again and led the coup of imprisoned scientists to escape, they had been mowed down faster than any of them could have expected. He shuddered as he thought about the number of dead behind them.

He was starting to get dizzy from the blood loss. Strangely, he sort of hoped one of the bullets was still in him, if only because he wanted to know what alien metal could pierce the armor so easily. The first hit had been to his side, and he changed fighting strategy immediately, since he actually had to avoid bullets for once. His mysterious teammate was confined to the ground, so he provided air support, plus he could maneuver and avoid bullets easier while airborne.

The last goon went down, and Tony’s landing was rough, as he took a knee immediately. How many times had he been hit. He lifted the faceplate as the woman approached him. "Take any damage?" he asked through gritted teeth. If they were gonna get out of this, someone had to be put together enough to fly a ship. Hopefully they could find a ship.

She gasped in surprise. "You’re a Terran in there!" she exclaimed. It was the first Tony heard her voice, and it sounded less humanoid than he had expected. The closest he could probably get to describing it was that it sounded like a few differently pitched voices speaking in unison. There was emotional inflection, which bode well for his hypothesis that she was an android and not a robot, unless she was just programmed to seem emotional like is LMDs (Life Model Decoy).

Tony let the armor fold back into the suitcase so he could investigate his own damage. The dizziness was getting worse, so he plopped down completely, butt hitting the ground painfully. "Yeah, it’s just armour," he ground out. Looked like the wound in his side was the biggest blood loss, and there were thankfully only two others. One clean through and through shot in his right bicep, which was impressive because that meant two separate layers of the armour hadn’t even slowed down the bullet. The other wound was in his left calf. "I’m Tony by the way."

Kneeling beside him, she reached for his wounded arm. The flinch was instinctual, they had only just escaped the building where he’d been beaten daily for weeks, so he couldn’t really be blamed. He allowed her to take his arm into her hands, though. "I am J3XM99, but you can call me Jenny." He hissed as she touched the wound, but she ignored him. "I had assumed you were like me, your flesh surprised me. I can close these temporarily?" She offered, as though any sane person would refuse that. He nodded. "It will hurt," was all the warning she gave.

Tony’s pained cry was louder than was safe considering there might still be enemies searching the woods. He bit down into his lip in order to quiet the others, tasting blood, but successfully quieting to muffled groans. Jenny was placing her left hand on each open wound and it felt like she was shooting some sort of liquid into them that quickly expanded and dried into a solid that stopped where it hit any flesh. Tony flexed his arm, and was impressed that the seal was water-tight. "That’s a nifty skill," he was in less pain now, and he wondered if it had an anesthetic in it as well. Any movement in his torso and weight on his leg still cause sharp pain from the embedded bullets, but small victories.

Jenny met his gaze, frowning. "If the part weren’t damaged, I’d be able to extract the bullets, too. At least the universal translator is intact." She watched with open interest as Tony had the suit reform around him, but left the faceplate up. Better safe than sorry, plus it would probably help keep him on his feet. "Did you create the armour yourself? I’ve never seen a Terran with such a suit."

He nodded. "May I ask why you have medical functions installed?" It could be a very personal question, but Tony was too exhausted to worry about tact.

"I had other animals on my team," she said softly, turning to look ahead. "They were also imprisoned." The rest didn’t need said. They didn’t make it. "If we can make it to my ship and fix it, I can take you home," she changed the subject.

"Oh, thank god you have a ship," Tony breathed out.

They shared a tentative smile. "As long as no one found it, at least. It’s cloaked though." She started walking, clearly expecting him to follow. "Only I should be able to see it."

"Are you okay? Any vital damage from the fight?" Now that they were moving, Tony could see some of the obvious damage, and she was limping.

"Thankfully no. Their bullets don’t pierce me as easily as you."

The walk to the ship was taking longer than Tony had hoped. Every step hurt, especially in his side, which the pain seemed to be spreading worryingly. At first, the pain had been pretty localized to the middle of his left side, but it was slowly becoming his entire left side, abdomen through chest. As breathing became painful, he had to consciously make sure he was still taking deep breaths instead of the shallow ones that hurt less. While the wounds weren’t bleeding externally, he was definitely bleeding internally, and he silently commanded JARVIS to use some of the suits power to walk for him so he could focus on staying awake.

When she stopped, "Here it is." Tony stopping behind her automatically gave control back to his own legs, which he definitely should have thought about because he immediately started to crumple, stumbling forward and catching himself on a tree before he could fall. Unfortunately, he caught himself with his left arm, which made the pain lance up his side.

"Nyaagh! Oh god," Tony focused on breathing, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

"Tony, what-?" Jenny asked, surprised. She quickly ducked under his right arm and practically dragged him into the now visible ship, before setting him on a bench. She put her hands out, and made a motion like she was running them over his suit, but without actually touching him. The grimace she made was not a promising sign. “There’s a lot of bleeding, and the bullet seems to be migrating. She looked confused.

_The arc reactor,_ he realized. God, he was ashamed to be called a genius. How had he not thought about the the big electromagnet embedded in his chest. Of course it was pulling the bullet. " That would be because of the magnet in my chest," he explained, tapping his fingertips on the reactor. "It’s a long story, but it keeps me alive."

"That…" she seemed to think for a moment. "Puts more of a time limit on this. I’m going to see how much damage the ship has taken, since we crashed and were immediately captured. If I can get it running I can have us to Earth in twenty minutes." She started moving around, turning things on and pressing buttons as she spoke. Tony watched her move, examining the tech around him. It helped distract him from the pain. Dying out here would suck. The Avengers would probably never find out what had happened to him if he did. Tony had taken the armour out for a simple exploratory mission. When he was kidnapped by a passing ship, they had tampered with his communications immediately. He should have returned last week, so he was sure they were worried, but he was too far away to be tracked. Despite Thor’s claims, Tony didn’t think Heimdall could actually see everywhere. He could probably see everywhere within the nine realms, but that was only nine realms.

The tech in this ship was far beyond anything Tony had seen, and that included Wakandan technology. If he survived this, which he was starting to doubt as a possibility, he would love to get a look at the inner workings. He leaned his head back, resting the helmet against the wall behind him. Closing his eyes seemed like a bad idea, because it made the room go topsy turvy. So he stared at the bottom of the cabinet that hung above him. He heard Jenny banging around and using tools, but moving his head to look seemed like a lot of effort.

"Fjourxinjal!" She cursed? It sounded to Tony like the tone someone usually used when saying a curse word, so he could only assume it was a word that had no english translation. "I need more parts."

He lifted his head to look at her. "What do you need?"

She looked like she had already given up. "I need a nickel-titanium alloy transistor, two proton beam engines, and a powerful enough battery or similar energy source to run the galaxy leap engine necessary for us to get to either one of our planets in less than a couple hundred years."

The universe hated Tony. It was the only logical explanation for the irony of the whole thing. "I’ve got all of that if we cannibalize the suit." He tried not to sound depressed about it, but it didn’t work.

Jenny didn’t seem to notice. "Seriously? That’s amazing!" She came over to him while Tony began taking the suit apart into pieces they needed.

"I need a screwdriver." She handed one over, watching carefully. He silently handed her each part, focusing on the task at hand. It took longer than it should, because his hands were shaking and his vision was blurring at the edges. He could hear his own breathing getting harsher, but she thankfully didn’t point it out. "That’s everything except the power source. I’d rather give you that at the last moment," he added wryly, tapping on the reactor.

Jenny’s eyes widened as she realized what he was saying. She shook her head furiously, "No, I can’t do that. You said it keeps you alive."

The pain in his torso helpfully chose that moment to give him a wave of agony that had him gasping for the breath, arching his back until he was leaned up against the wall again. When he caught his breath again, "I’m clearly dying anyway. At least you can get home with it. There’s no sense staying stranded here for me."

He assumed she must be convinced, because she deftly replaced the ship’s broken parts and pulled out a wire with an adaptor the reactor could plug into. She stared at it in her hand. "How long can you live without it?" she asked quietly.

Tony sighed. "I don’t know, it’s not worth it to go to Earth. The power isn’t endless, and you’ll run the risk of being stranded on Earth without parts compatible with your ship. Arc reactors are not a common item on Earth, it’s my personal invention." It really sucked trying to convince someone to kill you. Tony never imagined he’d actually be suggesting that someone take him apart. J3XM99 was all mechanical parts and program AI, so it almost seemed like cannibalism, he thought deliriously. A giggle bubbled out of him at the thought.

"How are you laughing!?"

"I- nnngh- just thought this is like cannibalism." Tony wasn’t sure if that would make sense at all. It did to him, but he recognized that he was delirious and probably would lose consciousness soon. He huffed out another laugh that turned into a cry of pain. That wave of pain made his vision white out for a moment. "Be a cannibal, Jenny. It’s the logical decision." He pulled the reactor out, making the decision for her. The addition of the familiar shrapnel in the heart pain was too much. He gasped with a whining noise. The arc reactor fell to the floor as his vision went black.

Tony was being shaken, and god, everything hurt, and his heart was racing faster than he ever thought was possible. "Please, stop," he whined.

"You have to tell me where you live," the voice begged. Who was that? It sounded weird. Like lots of voices. Tony thought of the Delightful Children from Down the Lane. He should maybe watch less cartoons. The person was shaking him harder.

"Aaagh god why!?" he cried out, opening his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. A face appeared in his vision, and it was enough to remind him what had happened. He couldn’t believe she had been so stupid, he shouldn’t even be alive. "You should have gone home," he whispered between shallow breaths.

"Too late," she answered sharply. 

"The trip drained the reactor though, so we need to get you a replacement now. Where. Do. You. Live." She shook him violently with each word, probably because he had started to black out again, not because he was a sadist.

"Helmet," he managed. She handed it to him and he turned it on. The comms would connect to the Avengers immediately. That was the best he could do, there was no way he was making it anyway. His heart was taking longer pauses between the flopping sensation of skipped beats.

"Iron Man! Come in!" Steve’s voice came from the helmet. Tony closed his eyes, glad he’d heard that voice one more time before he died.

The next time Tony woke up, it was slow and warm. He liked it better than being shaken awake in agony. When he peeled his eyelids open, he saw two faces right above him. It startled him into full wakefulness, "Oh my god! Ow." He jumped unintentionally, which even through the drugs in his system reminded him that his insides had had a bullet ripping through them. "Steve, Jenny, don’t do that."

Your friends explained what cannibalism is. I resent your calling me a cannibal, she said matter-of-factly. "Also, you lose, I made the right choice," she singsonged the last bit before sticking out her tongue. She had probably begun hanging out with Clint. She backed off then, and he had some room to breathe and take stock of his body.

The tubes he was hooked up to said he’d been unconscious for awhile. “In fairness, this has got to be a first that someone saved a life by cannibalism, so, Tony slurred, already feeling drugs pull him back under. "Missed you, Steve," he managed before going back to sleep.


End file.
